


the edge of the map

by Merideath



Series: the dragon verse [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Dragons, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Jane is me without coffee, Pets, Slow Build, Steve is great at dragons, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-19 15:16:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 25,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2393156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merideath/pseuds/Merideath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On her desk, right beside her ipod dock sits a stone replica dragon's egg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the edge of the map

**Author's Note:**

> Seeing as the third part of this little verse ended up being longer than the previous two parts I thought I would post it all as a new work so its easier for people to find and bookmark.

The edge of the map is not the end of the world, and dragons live within the borders as well as the edges. At least there were dragons in any map that wasn't Darcy's. At the age of six and three quarters, more or less, she scattered pennies across the backyard. Bright shiny pennies she collected from between the sofa cushions and in the parking lot of the corner store.

 

Darcy slept in the garden with a butterfly net, but no dragon ever came to visit her, but Mr. Otaku's roses were eaten by a small swarm of blind wyrms, that spit acid and burrowed under the fence and started the neighborhood dogs barking in the small hours before the sun rose.

 

Despite the absence of dragons in her own life, Darcy still loves their stories, and she watched David Attenborough’s _Living with Dragons_ documentary, with dragons big as houses and one as long and her elementary school. Reruns of _Little House on the Prairie_ were her absolute favourite, with Laura and her tiny brindle scaled dragonet Jack.

 

There is a dragon fund hidden amongst the books neatly stacked on a shelf in the tiny apartment she now calls home, and a silver dipped dragon’s scale pendant she wears next to her heart. But Darcy’s favorite possession is a small replica dragon’s egg that she bought for twenty-five cents at an estate sale two days before she went off to college.  

 

The egg was no larger that a goose egg, slate grey in color with an ancient _‘Made in Wales’_ sticker half rubbed off on the bottom. She keeps the egg nestled safe between the speakers of her ipod sitting on Darcy's cluttered desk in Jane’s haphazard lab space. The lab is not a safe space, accidents happen, and more often than not when you work for a brilliant astrophysicist smitten with a demigod.

 

Jane doesn’t start the fire, not this time, but the back wall of the lab is incinerated.

 

“My equipment,” Jane says, frowning as they pick through the charred remains of the lab.

 

“It’s Stark’s fault he can buy you new toys,” Darcy says, tossing a shattered coffee cup into a trash bag. "Don't you think SI could afford to have people clean this up for us."

 

"Darcy, no," Jane says, pointing in Darcy's direction. "I'm not having..."

 

"Stark's hands all over your equipment?" Darcy says, tossing a bit of (only slightly) scorched metal in a box marked 'useful' in Jane's near impenetrable scrawl. "You don't pay me enough for this."

 

"I don't pay you at all, SI does," Jane says, splashing through a puddle of inky black water. "I think I can fix this."

  
  


"Not likely," Darcy says, wrinkling her nose at the smell of melted plastic as drops the twisted lump of her ipod into the trash bag. The plastic stand for the dragon egg is melted to the table but the egg looks untouched, until Darcy picks it up. The egg is cracked "Oh, no." Darcy cries running her gloved thumb over the cracks on the surface of the egg. The egg is warm in the palm of her hand. A fragment of shell splinters off the egg, it wobbles in her hand, and a faint scratching sound can be heard. "Uh, Jane?"

 

"Not now, Darce."

 

"Jane?"

 

"Look you can put a iPod on the requisitions sheet."

 

"Jane!"

 

"What?"

 

"I've waited my whole life to say this... it's _alive_."

 

"I told you to stop watching those Syfy channel original movies."

 

"No, like, it's really alive," Darcy says, cradling the egg close to her chest. The egg rocks in her palm and a tiny egg-tooth pushes up through the fractured shell. "Oh my god."

 

 


	2. here be dragons

 

“This coffee tastes funny,” Jane says, absently jotting down notes and ignoring the BLT beside her. The sandwich and its plate were currently buried under a star chart, a charred notebook, and two folders, with various important and official SI stickers on them.

 

“That’s because it’s leaf water.”

 

“What?” Jane says, staring suspiciously into her cup.

 

“It’s tea.”

 

“Is it?” Jane blinks and Darcy fails to keep her eyes from rolling. “Did you even wash the cup, Darce?”

 

“Myfanwy? Lysanor?”Darcy asks the dragon, her eyes flicking back and forth from the dragonet to the list of Celtic Female Names of Wales. “What about Ariene? That means silvery and you my little dragon are grey,” she coos rubbing her fingers over the dragon’s belly. The dragon grasps at her index finger and ignores her words completely.

 

“I really need coffee, Darcy.”

 

“Yeah, no. No more coffee for Dr. Foster today,” Darcy says scrolling back to the top of the list of names. “Idris?”  The little dragon hiccups and wiggles in the cradle of her lap, tail wrapping tight around Darcy’s wrist. “You like that name don’t you?”

 

Idris chirps once, foggy grey eyes focusing on Darcy’s wiggling fingers. The dragon squirms in her lap, rolling over onto her back offering up her pale belly. The scales of her belly are an off-white color that might be eggshell or _Phantom Mist_ , or a lovely shade of _Song of Summer_ , blending into to the heather grey coloring of her back.

 

The little dragon was a rock dragonet, sometimes known as a pebble lizard for their ability to blend in with the color of their surroundings, much like a chameleon or octopus would do. Pebble lizards were native to the British Isles, grew no larger than a large housecat and were not one of the commonly kept housedragons. They (rock dragonets) tended to be far more troublesome pets than lesser spotted forest dragons which made the best mousers, dog sized red drakes, who were kept as watchdragons, or tiny dragonflies that grew no larger than a mouse, that were often found in the homes that could afford them. Dragons were not cheap, not the little ones, and especially not the larger ones that were kept as companions and workdragons.

 

“Idris,” Darcy says, holding up her iPhone and Idris yawns, jaws opening wide and pink tongue curling in a perfect circle. Darcy awkwardly snaps a picture with her left hand, cooing quietly as she rapidly adds tags ( **#dragonsofinstagram #sleepylildragonet #socuteithurts #rawr** ) to the photo and posts it to instagram.

 

“You know you can’t keep it,” Jane says absently sipping from her mug of tea and grimacing slightly. “Why is there tea in my coffee cup?”

 

“Her name is Idris, and she’s mine. And you have tea because you haven’t slept for four days, since the lab became toast.”

 

“I meant you can’t keep it in here.”

 

“It’s our lab.”

 

“No, it’s the lab we are borrowing while mine is being fixed. You need to leave her at home.”

 

“She’s a baby she needs to be fed every couple of hours.”

 

“Get a sitter then,” Jane says waving a hand in Darcy’s direction.

 

“Jane you barely pay me, how am I supposed to afford a dragonsitter? Didn’t you ever want a pet?”

 

“Darcy, please, I’m trying to work here.”

 

“Can I keep here here as long as she doesn’t cause any trouble?”

 

“No.”

 

“What if I get you more coffee?”

 

“Fine, whatever, just get me coffee.”

 

“I can do zat,” Darcy says, mile wide grin lighting up her face. “You hear that, Idris, you can stay.” She lifts the dragonet from her lap and drops a kiss on top of her head head. The dragon is entirely nonplussed and nuzzles sleepily against her chin.

 

“Coffee!”

 

“On it, boss lady,” Darcy says, tucking the sleepy dragon into her cleavage beneath the fall of her grey and teal knit cowl. Idris chirps once as she settles into Darcy’s warmth, clutching at the knit fabric of her second favorite green cardigan, and the lace edge of her bra.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The paint colours are real shades and I chose Idris' name for many reasons, but mostly because of Idris on Doctor who, because that is how I roll. Names have meaning and I like for there to be more than one meaning to a name.


	3. small dragon hoard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, so much fluff and delicious awkwardness. This is the most I have written for months and I know this verse is nothing but a toothache waiting to happen but it is words and imagery that makes me happy. Hopefully it will make a few of my readers happy too.

A few weeks later

 

“Hey, boss lady, I’m going on my lunch break,” Darcy says, saving the file she is transcribing from Jane’s near impenetrable notes as Jane bosses around her new assistants, Thing 1 and Thing 2. Jane absently waves, a marker clutched in her hand, before being absorbed by science once again.

 

Thing 2 was not fond of dragons which meant that at every time the nervous assistant came anywhere close to Darcy’s little kingdom, her brand spanking new desk and cushy ergonomic chair, Idris tried desperately to reach the assistant. The baby dragon couldn’t fly yet but she was very good and bunching herself up and leaping towards things. The results were decidedly mixed, Jane had become accustomed to Idris vying for attention, or more often bits of pastry, or the crusts from Jane’s sandwiches.

 

Pebble lizards were omnivorous, or so the secondhand copy of The Care and Feeding of Dragons said, there wasn’t very much in the incredibly brief section on Rock Dragonettes that Darcy found useful. When not sleeping or eating, Idris liked to cuddle, and was getting increasingly adventurous as she explored the confines of Darcy’s desk in the lab and her small apartment. Though anytime Darcy moved to another room the baby dragon cried out in distress before clumsily chasing after Darcy’s heels, or camouflaged herself to blend in with the afghan thrown over the battered old couch, or the bright colors of the duvet of the week.

 

“Come on, Idris, lets go see what we can find for lunch,” Darcy says, slinging her satchel over her shoulder.   

 

Idris’ head pops up from the box of paper she is busily hiding a stolen button in and whistles softly.  Darcy scoops her up and the dragon curls her tail around Darcy’s wrist. Her tiny wings flutter, and her solemn grey eyes blink slowly as Darcy deposits her onto her shoulder. Idris uncurls her tail from Darcy’s wrist, trills softly, nudging her head against Darcy’s before vanishing into the hood of the blue and grey sweater Darcy’s wearing.

 

The little dragon purrs softly as she curls up in the hood, and Darcy slips one earbud in as she heads down the hallway towards the elevator. Humming softly to the music playing in her ear Darcy never notices the trouble brewing through the observation window of the lab across the hall until it nearly crashes into her.

 

Captain America flies through the window, shattering the glass and sliding across the hall to land a foot from the toes of Darcy’s brown boots. There is a low rumbling roar from the lab, a flash of green scales in the smoke billowing from the room.

 

"Okay, I deserved that," Steve laughs, wincing a little as he sits up, curling his arm across his belly.

 

"Should I ask?"

 

The Hulk bellows and Darcy manages to not wince, despite the dig of Idris’ claws into her shoulder and neck.

 

"It's probably best you don't," Steve says as he clambers to his feet dusting chunks of glass from his shirt and jeans. “It’s Darcy, right?”

 

“Yup, that’s me,” Darcy nods once. The only time they have ever met was at what Darcy considers the most awkward meet and greet ever, when Jane and Thor moved into the tower. With little choice in the matter Darcy tagged along, half wishing she had gone to grad school instead of following a not-quite-mad astrophysicist halfway across the globe and back again. Half the avengers present at the meet and greet had looked ready to bolt, and the fake smile plastered on Cap’s face as Stark rattled on about Stark Industries and the Avengers Initiative had been more than a little painful to watch.

 

“So, who’s this?” Steve says, focusing on the tip of Idris’ snout visible through the fall of Darcy’s hair.

 

“Shouldn’t you, I dunno, be in there helping?”

 

“It’s covered,” he says, glancing back into the room where Stark and Barton were attempting to calm down the Hulk, and get the enormous green dragon to revert back to his human shape.

 

“Idris, say hello to the Captain.”

 

“Steve,” he says, his voice a soft rumble. Idris cocks her head from side to side listening as she clings to Darcy’s sweater, tangled in the fall of dark hair.

 

“Idris,” Steve coos softly, face open, the corners of his eyes crinkling as a smile curves across his lips. He reaches out his hand, fingers hovering near Darcy’s cheek but not touching the little dragon. Her heart skips at the nearness and Darcy bits the tip of her tongue to hold the gasp in that she desperately wants to make.

 

It’s pure imagination that she can feel the warmth of Steve’s body radiating off of him, and their eyes meet for an awkwardly long moment. Idris’ paws worry at Darcy’s shoulder. The dragon’s color matching the glossy brown of Darcy’s hair.  The little dragon ducks her head under Darcy’s chin with a low pitched whistle.

 

“Hey there, little one,” Steve tries again, patiently holding out his hand waiting for curiosity to get the better of the dragonet. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds before Idris investigates his hand, dragging his scent into her lungs and flicking the tip of her tongue over his fingertips.

 

Whatever he smells of, besides the hint of smoke from Hulk and the scent of cologne that Darcy can smell, seems to appeal to the little dragon. Idris nuzzles against Steve’s palm, and he obligingly strokes her. The dragon leans forward, inching as close to investigate him as she can without losing her perch on Darcy’s shoulder, slim tail curving around the back of her neck.

 

“Ow,” Darcy says, reaching up to untangle the little dragon from her hair.

 

“Here let me,” Steve says, reaching up to pull strands of hair away from where they tangle around Idris’ neck and right wing. The backs of his fingers brush against Darcy’s jaw and a small gasp spills from her lips.  “Sorry.”

  
  


Without warning the dragon launches herself into Steve’s chest, clinging to the soft blue of his button down. He laughs and Idris chirps, nipping at a button. Steve cradles his hand under Idris and her tail wraps around his wrist.

 

“I don’t know if I should be jealous or not,” she says, as Idris curls her tail tighter around Steve’s wrist, nudging his chest for more attention.

 

“I’m just good with dragons, I guess,” Steve says, red creeping up his neck as they both glance into the wrecked lab space at the massive green dragon hulking in the center of the room.

 

“I can see that,” she says, eyebrows arching high.

 

“Sometimes,” Steve amends dryly.

 

“I know. Uh, I had a plush Liberty Belle when I was a kid.”

 

“Not the Bucky Bear or Captain Bear America?”

 

“Nope, Liberty was my favorite next to my My Little Dragons toys,” Darcy says, ignoring the heat creeping up into her cheeks.

 

There were children's books about Captain America’s adventures with Liberty Belle, _The Difficult Little Dragon_ , a Little Golden Book, was among her favorite books as a little kid. It sat on the shelf at her parents house along with her battered copies of the Little House Books, and Judy Blume.  

 

What Darcy wasn’t going to admit to was crying at the footage of Captain America’s...Steve’s reunion with the blue dragon, he stole to become a hero and rescue his childhood friend. Steve didn’t need to know that. Nope.

 

“Mhmm,” Steve says, smiling as he pushes Idris’ snout away from his shirt button. The little dragon turns to putty in his hands, and he rubs over her scales and tickles under her more sensitive belly. He focuses on the dragonet, face lighting up when she preens at all the attention. “She’s starting to shed.”

 

“I know. She demands to be scratched where it itches the most,” Darcy replies, gathering her into her fist and pulling a stray hair tie from her wrist. One of the few hair ties that Idris hasn’t stolen to hide within her nest. The nest she was meant to sleep in instead of curled up against Darcy’s neck.

 

“Coconut oil,” he says, eyes flicking up to meet hers. “It’s good for when little ones are shedding their skin.”

  
  


“The cooking or the suntan kind?”

 

“I have some I can drop around later,” Steve says, words fading out as Hulk dragon roars. Idris stills, pressing herself flat against his chest, scales shifting from heather grey to the pale blue of Steve’s button down.

 

“Little help here, Cap,” Barton shouts out. “You can flirt later.”

 

“And that’ll be my cue,” Steve says dryly, untangling himself from Idris’ grasping paws and curling tail. There is a flush of warmth in his cheeks as he reluctantly places Idris back into Darcy’s hands. “I’ll see you later, Darcy, Idris.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the toothache?
> 
> I don't know when and if there will be more but I do have more headcanon for this little dragon filled verse so I shall hope that Sybil my muse, and my brain are good to me. I do have other wips, one that only needs a second draft so I feel pretty pleased that I haven't lost my ability to write while I deal with my brain being a jerk (depression and anxiety). 
> 
> Thank you everyone who has been reading and commenting on my fics, I promise to catch up on replies as soon as I can. It really does mean a lot to me.


	4. the Ballad of Liberty Belle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and his dragon Liberty Belle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is not what I intended to write, but its what my muse gave me and I ran with it. Its more of an interlude chapter, and hopefully there will be a bit more of Steve's past with Liberty. Hopefully I will find the time to work on the next bit of Steve/Darcy fluff in this verse or possibly Minion verse...because fluff. 
> 
> Anyway...dragons. 
> 
> oh and thanks go to thewriterchick and ladysarah for betaing, and aenaria and rainne for handholding and headcanoning. 
> 
> And many thanks to all my readers. I owe you all replies for your lovely comments. They mean a lot to me. I may have teared up a few times....more than a few times. Thank you so very much.

The first dragon to curl around Steve’s memories was the color of brick, or what he assumed the color bricks were. The dragon’s name was Aggie and she belonged to old Mrs. Lynch who made it her business to know everyone else’s business, though his ma said Mrs. Lynch earned her keep taking in the ironing. The apartment she called home was warm even in the depths of winter, and Steve imagined most of that warmth was generated by Aggie, even though the dragon was hardly larger than Mr. Kelly’s dog with the tattered left ear.

 

Steve could still recall the warmth of Aggie’s smooth scales as she curled around him beside the little potbellied stove that warmed the apartment. Aggie loved all the children, but she had been more careful with Steve than the other children had ever cared to be. Dragons weren’t common pets then, not in those days, and not in that neighborhood where plates tended to be empty more often than not. Mrs. Lynch told a story of how Aggie came to live with her grandfather, a boy who ran off from the farm to become a sailor, and when he returned he was missing his right hand, and had a small dragon darting about the sky with a rabbit clutched in her curved claws.

 

…...

 

Steve never dreamed of flying, so the first time he flies on a dragon’s back is a bit of a shock. Getting smacked in the face by a pine branch he failed to duck wasn’t so much of a shock as damned annoying.

…...

 

"Steve."

 

"I think I have a ride already, Agent Carter, but thanks. You need to get back to your quarters."

 

“You can’t give me orders.”

 

“The hell I can’t. I’m a captain,” Steve says, barely concealing the smirk on his face as he slips into the shadows past the stable’s guards.

 

The stables is set near the air strip, an old stone farm building now the roost of a dozen sleek dragons. The guards may not have seen Steve but the dragons certainly do. Steve holds his hands up, awareness pricking up and down his spine as the dragons inspect him. He’s not afraid, not really, but he must reek of desperation as words trip off his tongue. “I need a ride.”

 

The dragons grumble and shift back to their sleeping positions, glittering scales sliding against each other. Steve’s heart clenches when he’s pushed from behind hard enough to knock him off his feet and push the air from his lungs. “Hey,” he mutters rolling over onto his back to see a dragon with her head quirked to the side, blue scales shining in the dim light, a leather collar around her neck.

“Liberty,” Steve reads off the collar and Liberty whistles low, and drops her head to nudge against his chest  dragging his scent into her lungs, and breathing out a cloud of hot air into Steve’s face.

…..

 

“We made it,” he says, sliding off Liberty’s back and landing on his toes on the muddy ground. The image of pressing his lips to the mud squelching beneath his boots flits through his brain and he pushes it away. Liberty looks less than impressed with him as she preens her wings. The tip of her tail flicks back and forth, cracking once, loud enough to make Steve wince and dart his eyes towards the Hydra base lurking in the distance.

 

Pine needles cling to his clothing, a drop of amber colored sap sticking to the leather of his jacket, and red marks are scored across his face and hands. As first flights go it wasn’t bad, Steve was still breathing, and as far as he can tell Liberty was happy as he had ever seen a dragon. “Stay here, girl.”

 

Liberty raises the ridges above her eyes, ducks her head down, and nips at the collar of the leather jacket, rough tongue leaving a trail of dragon spit on the jacket and Steve’s neck. “Thanks.”

 

She doesn’t stay, Liberty follows behind him like a stray dog, circling wide of the Hydra goons and enslaved dragons they encounter. The heat of her dragonfire scorches the earth, cleansing it, when a hydra goon slips past Steve’s guard. He nods his head and pushes forward winding his way past the sleeping hulk of a green dragon chained near a door, the thing was easily four times Liberty’s size, with small flightless wings.

 

“Stay,” he says shouldering through a locked door. Liberty squeezes through the open doorway, blue scales glinting in the dim light of the factory. Steve jumps over the railing, landing on his feet in the shadows between two pools of light. He glances back to see Liberty climbing up into the steel beams supporting the roof.

 

….

"Where the hell did you get a dragon?"

 

"The army."

 

"When?"

 

“A coupla hours ago,” Steve says, mouth twisting up into a grin. He pats Liberty on the side and the dragon huffs at him, twisting her slender neck around to investigate Bucky.  

 

“He gotta name?” Bucky grumbles, pushing the dragon’s snout away from his face. Liberty hisses snapping her tail back and forth, claws ripping at the metal walkway beneath her paws.

 

“She. Her name’s Liberty Belle, s’on her collar,” Steve says, motioning  towards his neck with the arm not looped around Bucky’s back. “Come on, Buck, talk later.”

 

 


	5. dragonsitting is exhausting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragonsitting is exhausting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say I'm sorry for all the dental work you will need after you read this chapter but I'm really, really not. Most of the chapter wrote itself and its been quite awhile since words flowed so freely. This is quite possibly the fluffiest thing I have ever written and I hope it brings a smile to you as you read it. 
> 
> This chapter is for Aenaria, Blackglass, silvermorningglory, and Rainne, who love Idris more than I do, and she's my creation.

Steve tosses the pot of coconut oil between his hands as he waits for Darcy to answer the door. His heart-rate jumps when he catches a muffled ‘Hold on...right there’ through the door. A series of muttered curses and two thumps later and the door swings open. A smile lighting up his face before he lays eyes on her. 

“Perfect,” Darcy says, grabbing his arm. He’s too startled by the physical contact to do anything but stumble into the room as she shuts the door with a soft click. 

“Uh, hello to you too?” he says, lips twitching. 

“I need your help.”

“With what?” he asks, back straightening, eyes scanning Darcy’s face and skipping over the room. 

“Dude, chill, there’s no fire here,” she says patting his arm. Darcy makes a happy little humming sound, her fingers squeezing his forearm. It’s then that Idris comes skittering around the corner of the hall. The little dragon shimmers and blends into the color of the wall (later, much later he will learn the color is called Purple Pout.), and the hardwood floor.

“Idris, you have a visitor,” Darcy shouts, far too close to Steve’s ear. 

The baby dragon shuffles about scenting the air, tiny claws pattering on the hardwood floor. Darcy calls to her again and Idris sneezes, a puff of toasted marshmallow scented smoke drifting up from the floor as the little dragon reappears.

“No fire, huh?”

“Okay,” Darcy grins, holding up thumb and forefinger. “Maybe a little bit of smoke.”

Idris sneezes again and leaps up into the air, tiny wings beating madly, but she’s too small for flight and manages to cross the room in a series of stilted of hops that barely lift the dragon off the ground for more than a moment or two. The dragon sneezes twice more as she scrambles to a stop between his feet. Idris cocks her head to the left and the right, the tip of her tail twitching as she examines him. Steve hands the pot of coconut oil to Darcy and crouches down. He holds his hand out palm up for Idris’ inspection, watching as she twists her head to get a better look at him, small paws reaching out to feel out his hand. 

He’s far too aware of Darcy standing beside him watching his every move. Each breath he takes he can smell the light floral scent of Darcy’s shampoo, and curses himself for a fool for wanting to know what kind. 

“Hey there, girl,” Steve says quietly, holding himself still. 

Idris’ tongue flicks out to taste his skin and she trills happily. The dragon’s wings flap excitedly and she hops onto the palm of his hand, tail curling tightly tightly around his wrist. Idris weighs no more than a tiny kitten in his hand, but her grip on his wrist is strong. Her paws feel along the cuff of his shirt sleeve until she finds the pearl button, taking it into her mouth and tugging. Steve nudges the tip of her snout away from the pearl button, and holds still as the dragon crawls up his arm to perch on his shoulder, bumping the top of her head against his cheek. 

"What exactly do you need Cap’s help with?" he asks absently, stroking his fingers over Idris' head. 

"I don’t need Captain America, I need Steve Rogers,” she says tilting her head back, eyebrows raising suggestively. 

Steve’s heart hammers in his chest, and he wets his lips, hand falling still on Idris’ head. “You need me?” he says, voice dropping an octave. 

“I need,” she says leaning up to rub under Idris’ chin. “...a dragonsitter."

"A what?"

"Two hours tops. NDA."

"I need a non disclosure agreement to watch a hatchling?"

"Pfffft, No Dragons Allowed. Not my rule, you can't take it up with the boss lady."

"Rumour has it that you're the boss in Foster's lab," Steve grins lopsidedly, ignoring the pull of Idris' paws in his hair. 

Darcy arches her brows up over the edge of her glasses frames. "I wouldn't think you listened to gossip, isn't that like anti-American?"

"Pretty sure it's a national pastime."

"Sassy, I might like you better that way." 

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” Steve says, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a lopsided smile. Flirting with Darcy is the most fun he’s had since the last time he flew with Liberty for the hell of it. If he was being honest with himself it was possibly more fun. 

Darcy's phone starts blaring, some wailing tune that falls between the cracks of what he's listened to since they thawed his out. "Her dinner is in the fridge, she has a nest in the living room, and her hoard is in the bedroom behind the chair if she steals anything from you. She's like a magpie with pretty scales...aren't you, Idris?" 

At the sound of her name Idris clicks her tongue, and tugs on Steve’s earlobe. 

“You can handle one small dragon for three, maybe four hours, right?”

“I thought you said two tops?”

“Science, Steve, science.”

“Forget I asked. I can handle watching a hatchling for a few hours,” he says, with a sharp salute, ruined by Idris nudging her way into the collar of his shirt, claws tickling his neck. 

“Dude, you rock,” Darcy grins, and gives him a thumbs up and makes her way to the door. Steve pays rather too much attention to the swing of Darcy’s hips and not enough to the dragonette on his shoulders. 

….

The first thing he learns is that he cannot handle things. 

Steve Rogers is in no way equipped to deal with the care and feeding of a baby dragon. Liberty never gave him half the trouble that Idris does in the first thirty minutes he’s left alone with his tiny scaled charge. Then again Liberty was far too large to lose, well not for very long anyway. 

The door barely has time to close before one of his shirt buttons pings off and Idris leaps down after it. The button bounces under the coffee table, and the dragon pounces, like a tiny kitten after a butterfly. The button doesn’t put up much of a fight, and Idris clasps it between her front paws and runs on ungainly back legs, tail raised for balance, and wings held close to her body. 

“Idris,” Steve calls out, following her down the hall. The little dragon is fast when she doesn’t try to fly, and she disappears into an open doorway before he can catch up to her. He loses sight of Idris for a moment as he takes in the chaotic disaster that is Darcy’s sanctuary. 

The room is small, the walls painted a warm chicken's egg beige, with framed photographs and prints in clusters. The pale furniture is brightened up by stacks of books, and an assortment of neglected toys meant to entertain pet dragons. The bed is scattered in brightly colored pillows covered in a old patchwork quilt, in a twisting pattern of rings in shades of green and blue. He runs his hand over the fabric, feeling the stitches and snags from Idris' claws. One of the pillows in a dusty purple colour is ragged and patched, with a tiny Idris sized dent in the middle.

The bookshelf is filled with books on a variety of topics: science fiction, fantasy, dragons, astronomy, mythology, and physics. Steve drags his fingers down the spines of the books, a few authors and titles perk his interest, and he makes a mental note to ask Darcy if he can borrow a few, for dragonsitting services rendered. Little nicknacks decorate the shelf, a broken dragon’s egg that he assumes to be Idris’, a figure of a sleeping dragon carved into a piece of amethyst. Lego figures in the shape of a lady scientist, a dragon, and a girl in a bunny suit stand guard over a sky blue dish, filled with rings, a tangle of necklaces and a large drilled dragon scale pendant. 

The tinkling sound of something dropping on the floor catches his ear, and Steve steps closer to the corner with a hideous beige chair covered by a dark green throw. 

He peers around the corner of the chair to find Idris blinking up at him from atop her horded treasures. The dragon hiccups a ring of sweet smelling smoke, and cries out in dismay as a coin and a marble tumble off her hoard. 

Idris leaps off the little pile and chases after the marble sending it further across the room. Steve watches in amusement as the dragon zigzags across the room chasing the marble, until she catches it. She lopes back to the corner with the marble in her mouth, grumbling and chirping around it. A Starbucks gift card, a bent playing card, countless hair ties and bobby pins, pieces of lego, loose buttons, a lanyard with Darcy’s ID card attached, a scrap of red lace (that Steve has to tear his gaze away from), and a few coins are all that the hoard holds. 

After that Idris amuses herself by alternately climbing all over Steve to reach higher ground, and playing the dragon version of hide and seek. Thank god for his science enhanced abilities or he would have tripped over or stepped on the little dragon a dozen times. In the end he finds the easiest way to get Idris to reappear is the coins jingling in his pockets. 

Steve reaches into his pocket to drop a nickel onto the floor. Idris inspects the coin with great interest for all of thirty seconds, before abandoning the hoard to climb up his pants leg crying plaintively. Her claws catch on the cotton of his shirt, and any attempts he makes to help free the dragon end in nipped fingers. 

“Hungry, huh?” he murmurs, while Idris settles herself on his shoulder. Her tail curls around the back of his neck, one paw pressing against his cheek, and her wings spread as wide as they will go to balance. 

The kitchen is decorated in pale wood and shining chrome, all the modern conveniences that living in the tower afforded though on a far more diminutive scale than his own suite of rooms. Dishes fill the sink, but the rest of the kitchen is tidier than his own. 

Steve and Idris peer into the fridge. There is a small jar of Hatchling Chow on the top shelf, and Steve picks it up to examine the ingredients. He twists off the top and sniffs at the contents, wrinkling his nose. 

“There’s got to be something better than this,” he says, putting the jar back in the fridge, and scanning the next shelf down. An iceberg lettuce sits in the crisper and he breaks off a chunk, handing a small piece to Idris and popping the rest in his mouth. A bit more rummaging and he finds a steak and a few vegetables that are more or less still edible. The dragonwiki and his own experience with dragons let him know that they would eat almost anything if hungry enough. 

Idris hops off his shoulder to take her prized piece of lettuce and hide behind the fruit bowl. Steve sets to work chopping the vegetables and heating up a frying pan, keeping a careful eye on the dragonet currently filching a grape from the cluster dangling over the edge of the fruit bowl. 

Steve hums as he cooks and by the time the steak is ready to be turned Idris has sat down beside the burner holding her paws up to the heat, nodding her head up and down, and trilling excitedly. Dragons are mostly impervious to fire, but Steve worries anyway. 

He feeds Idris small pieces of steak and vegetables; she refuses to eat the onion and green pepper but every scrap of meat and red pepper he offers her disappears without a trace. After their shared dinner Steve attacks the dishes with military precision, rolling up his sleeves and filling the sink with hot water. 

There's a dishwasher in the kitchen, the same as in his own but washing them by hand is something he has always enjoyed. Apple scented bubbles fill the sink and he lets his mind wander as he washes the dishes. He's focused on scrubbing a coffee ring from a cup when a wave of dishwater soaks through his shirt. 

"Hey," Steve says, frowning down at Idris wallowing in the dishwater, jaws snapping at bubbles and a soft purr issuing from her throat. The dragon ignores him, wings flapping, tail thrashing about in the water, thoroughly drenching Steve's shirt. 

"Thanks for that," he huffs, unbuttoning his shirt and draping it over one of the breakfast bar chairs. The undershirt is soaked through and Steve peels it off using the shirt to mop up the water on the counter. He fishes Idris out of the dirty water, rinses her off under the tap, and deposits her on a blue and white dish towel, earning a hiss and a nip on his thumb for the trouble.

Wrapping the towel around the baby dragon he carries her into the living room and perches on the edge of the sofa, setting the bundle of unhappy dragon down on his knees. Steve rubs his fingertips over the towel drying her off, despite her indignant shrieking. 

"You'll like this, Liberty always did," he says fumbling open the lid of the coconut oil jar and digging out a small lump. The coconut oil melts with the warmth of his fingers and he rubs it into Idris' dry scales. She cranes her neck around to get at his fingers, tongue flicking out to taste the oil. 

"Good?" he asks, rubbing the tender spot where her wings met her back. The scales down Idris' spine are a darker shade of almost amethyst than the rest of her heather grey scales. 

Idris burps up a cloud of beef and marshmallow scented smoke that wafts in Steve's face. It's not pleasant, not even a little bit. It takes a few minutes for the smell to dissipate and then the only thing he breathes in is the sweet smell of coconut. 

Steve hums as he works, and Idris turns to putty in his hands. She rolls over on her back to expose her tender belly, and purrs contentedly. It's nothing like the chest rumbling noise Liberty made when she was happy but the sound is soothing all the same. 

...

"Oh my god," Darcy whispers hours later. 

Steve hears the click of her phone before he blinks awake. He reaches for the tiny scaled body curled over his heart. Idris nuzzles his fingers and curls her tail around his wrist with a sleepy sigh. 

"What time is it?" he asks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

"Late-ish. I texted," she says, waving her phone in his face. He catches her wrist in the hand and focuses on her phone, missing the blush that heats up her cheeks. "Past the bedtime for little dragons and American icons."

The lock screen shows the picture she took moments before; him asleep with Idris curled on his chest. The clock ticks over to 12:46. "Mhmm," Steve murmurs, rubbing his thumb over Darcy's wrist. Her breath hitches and he drags his eyes up to meet hers. Her cheeks flush with color, and Steve swallows hard reluctantly letting go of her wrist, instead of pulling her closer, the way that he wishes he could. He drops his eyes down to the phone cradled in her hand. "Is there a reason you have my ugly mug on your phone screen?"

"Dude, have you seen yourself?"

"Every day in the mirror."

"You're kind of a little shit aren't you?"

"Nah, not me," Steve shrugs, mouth tugging up in a crooked smirk. 

The movement causes Idris to jerk awake on his chest. Her scales ripple and for a moment her hue changes to the colour of his skin and the hair on his chest. Idris flattens herself against him, still as a stone and Darcy snorts clapping her hand over her mouth.

"Ow," Steve says, attempting to pry Idris' claws from his chest. The little dragon holds on stubbornly, but she switches back to her own colors, trilling loudly and launching at Darcy. Idris lands on Darcy's sweater crawling up to her cleavage, and Steve isn't quite gentleman enough to fully look away. 

"I missed you too, baby," she coos, and Idris bumps the top of her head on Darcy's chin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pssst, the lovely silvermorningglory made this [delightful fanart of Steve and Idris](http://silvermorningglory.tumblr.com/post/99237172958/psst-typhoidmeri-dragonsitting-is-exhausting), isn't it cute?


	6. set in copper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idris gets a new shiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, and sparkles, and more fluff. 
> 
> Because Idris. 
> 
> Thanks go to Aenaria for the quick beta, and the listening to me go on, and on, and on about Idris and the dragon verse. 
> 
> Thank you very much for all your lovely comments on this cracky verse. I hope this little update makes you smile just a little bit.

"Did you know today was Saturday, Jane? The weekend. The second most precious day of sleeping in?"

"You can sleep in tomorrow. There’s coffee."

"The coffee and overtime better be freaking worth it," Darcy mutters, shuffling further into the lab, careful of the weight of Idris curled up tight in the hood of her Culver sweatshirt. She pours herself a mug of coffee, adding a teaspoon of sugar and a splash of milk, and stirring with a sticky handled spoon.

"Bear mackedge," Jane says around a mouthful of bagel.

"It's too early for my translation programming to run." Darcy frowns, cupping the mug closer to her lips. The steam curls up, warming her face, and she sighs appreciatively.

Jane frowns and gestures with the hand cradling a blue **_'astrophysicists do it with telescopes'_** mug. The dark liquid sloshes over the edge of the cup and splatters on a stack of data print outs (Jane needed paper to think. It was a thing) and a Stark tablet, in a scuffed blue and purple galaxy case. The coffee drops form the constellation Andromeda. "Shit, shit, shit."

“Exactly how much coffee have you had this morning?”

Sighing, Darcy sets her own cup down and turns on her heel, wordlessly grabbing a roll of paper towels. The industrial blue kind that was more than likely dragon proof, or just felt like it anyway. The spilled coffee doesn’t cause as much damage as it could have, though it’s a dreadful waste of the good stuff in Darcy’s opinion.

“Not nearly enough,” Jane replies, turning to grab a small bubble mailer with Darcy’s name on it. Literally. Darcy’s name is scrawled across the front, on a label decorated with a sparkly unicorn sticker. “This was in my mail this morning.”

“Gimmie,” she says, making grabby hands for the package and bouncing on her heels. The movement disturbs Idris from her sleep and the little dragon chirrups, nudging Darcy as she tried to burrow deeper in the hood of Darcy’s sweatshirt. “Shhh, baby.”

Tearing open the package reveals two bubble wrapped lumps, a hastily written note, and a small rectangular Moo card. The card has a picture of a delicate rough smoky quartz ring set in oxidized silver. The rustling of the packaging lures the little dragon to crawl up, laying her chin on Darcy’s shoulder to peer inquisitively down at the object slowly being revealed from the bubble wrap, and a gauzy pink cloth bag.

Darcy opens the cloth bag pouring it’s contents into the palm of her hand. A chunk of raw amethyst on a copper chain. Idris whistles excitedly, scrambling over Darcy’s shoulder, and leaping onto the countertop and whipping around to grasp at Darcy’s hand with her front paws.

“Oh no, you don’t. This one is mine,” she says, lifting the necklace and looping it over her head. The amethyst pendant hangs heavy between her her breasts. The stone is a few shades darker than the scales running down the dragonette’s spine.

Idris whistles, hopping up and down on her back legs, small wings flapping indignantly until Darcy scoops her up in her hands to let the dragon examine the necklace. Her paws touch all over the surface of the gem, and the little dragon mouths at the copper chain and licks the stone with the tip of her tongue.

“It’s not food,” Darcy admonishes, pushing Idris’ mouth away from the amethyst.

“Pretty,” Jane says absently.

Darcy’s not entirely sure if the scientist means the necklace, or the print out in her free hand. Or possibly the cream the scientist was stirring into her coffee.

“Right?” Darcy says, reaching for the other package. It’s larger and covered in thin strips of purple and green heart washi tape. Idris nudges between her hands, paws and nose eagerly investigating the layers of packaging. The bubble wrap pops, and the little dragon rears back, leaning into Darcy’s arm with a startled whine. “Shhhh, it’s fine,” she says, stroking her fingers idly over Idris’ scaled head.

The dragon trills, claws catching in Darcy’s sweatshirt, and nuzzles her fingers.

Darcy drips the tape away and pops the bubble wrap again as she sets it aside on the counter, a bright pink cloth bag nestled in her palm. Idris pushes forward to pounce on the plastic. She bites at the packaging with the hard ridges of her gums. Pop, pop, pop.

“That’s enough, I can’t think,” Jane says, though the amusement in her voice colors the lie in her words.

“Idris, come see,” Darcy says, shaking the pink bag until it’s contents shift and clink together. She opens the bag carefully, spilling the contents onto the counter. A length of copper chain is wrapped around a piece of card, a copper alloy collar, with a small piece of raw smoky quartz dangling from it.

Idris whistles and skitters across the space between them. Her tiny paws open and close as she scrambles at the semi-precious stone, tilting her head from side to side to get the best view possible.

“I think she likes it,” Darcy grins and Jane makes a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat. “Whatever, it’s awesome.”

Darcy jingles the chain on the counter drawing Idris’ attention from the stone pendant on the collar. As quick as she can Darcy loops the tiny collar around the dragonette’s neck and closes the special dragon proof clasp. Idris stills, cocking her head to the side to try and see what’s been done to her.

Darcy pulls out her phone and snaps a picture of an extremely disgruntled Idris.

The dragon’s paws feel over the collar, grasping the dangling gemstone. Idris hisses, shaking her head, and backing up in a wobbly circle. She tugs uselessly at the collar, making little growling noises, as she struggles.

The smoky quartz pendant swings back and forth and the little dragon wails mournfully. Her tiny pear-shaped body lists to the side in a slow, controlled collapse. She looks up at Darcy with wide betrayed eyes, and darcy bursts into hysterical laughter.

“Oh my god,” Jane says, snorting with laughter. The scientist claps her hands together, or attempts to, the coffee cup is still in her hand. Coffee spills over the rim of the cup and the little dragon narrows her eyes and looks away from Darcy and Jane, her color flickering from grey, to the black of the counter, to copper and back again.

“I’m so sorry, baby, we didn’t mean to laugh at you,” Darcy coos, scooping Idris up into her hands. She cradles the dragonet close to her chest, rubbing her fingertips along Idris’ scales, behind her ears. Darcy’s pretty sure Steve Irwin never had this sort of trouble on Dragon Hunter.

After several long moments Idris begins to purr faintly at all the attention. She stretches up on her back legs, tail curling around Darcy’s wrist. The dragon lays her paw on Darcy’s chin and nudges her cheek. Idris’ tongue is rough and it tickles on Darcy’s skin.

A few moments later Darcy snaps a selfie making a kissy face that that Idris ignores in favor of growling at her collar. Darcy fiddles about with instagram filters before posting the picture.

**Unimpressed dragon is unimpressed. #worstthingever #cantgoon**

**#idristhebabydragon #rockdragonet #dragonsofinstagram #rawr**

…

**Instagram**

**kilroywashere1918 liked your picture**

**kilroywashere1918 left a comment on your photo: It’s a pretty collar. What stone is that? :)**

**Thanks, @kilroywashere1918 I think it’s a pretty shiny collar myself.**

……

“Cake was a brilliant idea, Idris,” Darcy says.

The dragon trills sleepily at the sound of her name looking up from her position, draped over Darcy’s shoulder, clawed paws resting on Darcy’s cleavage as they walk down the hallway leading to Captain Rogers...Steve’s...apartment. “Don’t fret none, we’ll go home as soon as we drop these cupcakes to Steve,” she says, absently reaching up to offer Idris a well deserved chin scratch. A white box tied with pretty red and white baker’s twine dangles from Darcy’s fingers.

They had survived Idris’ first proper trip out into the world. At least a trip that didn’t involve stuffing Idris into a special dragon carrier and hauling her to the nearest vet specialising in Dragonology, that Darcy could afford. Nearest was a lie, it took two trains and more calm than a vat of Dr Banner’s calming tea, to get there. Idris liked the park well enough, Darcy had the muddy paw prints on her leggings and jacket to prove it. The bakery, well, they walked off with a box of cupcakes and a random coin Idris stole from the change pot by the till.

There is a single silver star beside the door, above the card reader. Darcy rummages in the pocket of her jeans to find the keycard she swiped from Thor that gave access to the avengers apartments. Steve wasn’t home, of that she was sure of, and more so that the all seeing AI didn’t send out an alarm as the door clicks open. The room is neat, probably a little too neat, but its not too dissimilar to the layout of Thor and Jane’s place that Darcy finds her way to the kitchen.

“Be still,” Darcy huffs out as Idris twists on her shoulder, nostrils flaring as she drags in the scent of the apartment. All Darcy could smell was the pyramid of tangerines in the fruit bowl as she set the bakery box down on the counter. Idris jumps down onto the counter, tail ramrod straight as she stalks towards the fruit bowl.

Darcy digs through her satchel until she finds a notepad and pen.

_@kilroywashere1918,_

_Thanks for the dragonsitting and the coconut stuff. I owe you one but for now, CAKE._

_Darcy_

_( & Idris too)_

She slaps the cap back on the pen and slips the note under the baker’s twine. “Okay we’re outie, little one,” she says to the empty counter. "Idris, get back here! I’m putting your collar back on," Darcy calls out as she follows Idris’ excited flapping and whistling. The little dragon scrambles down the hall and into a bedroom. Idris wings flap madly as she scurry hops across the room, deftly navigating around furniture and squeezing through the space between a slightly ajar door and the door jamb. "Idris!"

The swishing sound of water and Idris' happy trills fills Darcy ears at the same time she pushes the door fully open.

"Oh god," Darcy squeaks, eyes white and scarlet creeping into her cheeks. Her eyes move from the battered paperback copy of Mort on the tiled floor and up the side of the bath. Steve's half reclined in the tub, Idris perched on the center of his chest, her tail curling tight around his wrist. The little dragon's paws rest on his chin, her neck outstretched to to nuzzle Steve's cheek. Idris purrs loudly, or as loudly as she can project the noise, interspersing chirps and trills as her part of the dialogue.

Steve strokes his fingers over the dragon's head, laughter a deep rumble in his chest that makes the dragonflies in Darcy's belly flutter. Idris is quite literally vibrating with happiness. “Missed me, huh?” he asks and it takes Darcy a moment to realise he’s talking to her pet and not herself.

His hair is slicked back from his temples, stubble along his jaw, the dark whorls of hair on his chest glistening with water droplets. The hair trails down his belly disappearing into the soap bubbles dotting the surface of the water. Oh, God she was in such trouble. "Sorry," she says, the word catching a little in her throat. “I mean we wouldn’t be here if I knew you were home? I mean I would have knocked and not blatantly walked into your bathroom to ogle you in the bath. Yeah, uh, sorry and we brought cake?”

"Really?" Steve asks, brows arching up, and the corner of his mouth curling upwards.

"Possibly," Darcy says dragging her lip between her teeth. "Okay, maybe not sorry at all."

Steve's jaw drops open, pink mouth inviting all sorts of lurid thoughts to skitter across Darcy's Mind. Idris turns around on his chest, tail slapping Steve in the face as she bunches up her body to leap across to the small island of his knee above the water’s surface.

The dragon’s wings flap for balance, and her blunt claws dig into Steve’s skin. Idris whistles and jumps into the water near his feet. Water splashes up over Steve as the dragon thrashes.

"Steve! She can't," Darcy panics, stumbling forward from the doorway.

"I got her," he says, sitting up and scooping Idris out of the deep water. The little dragon trills indignantly, grasping onto Steve's hand with her paws. Her tail curls tight around his wrist, and her small wings flap about. "Too deep for you, huh, sweetheart?"

Cheese and crackers, that was not fair.

“Towel?” she says awkwardly, reaching for a fluffy white towel folded neatly over the rail. “I’ll just take my dragon and go off to die of embarrassment in a corner somewhere.”

“I thought you said something about cake?” Steve says, lifting Idris out onto the towel in Darcy’s not entirely steady hands.

The dragon wiggles in her grasp, growling and biting at the soft towel as Darcy attempts to gently dry the water from her scales.


	7. the trouble with dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the chapter I started awhile ago, but it is apparently the chapter I needed to write this week. It's been one of those weeks where I've had to fight my brain most days and I'm just glad the week is over and tomorrow I have nothing in particular to do other than craft a little and maybe write, muse willing. I hope Idris's antics in this installment bring a smile or two. 
> 
> Big thanks go to Rainne for beta'ing this wee chapter, and to Aenaria for enabling all the fluff. 
> 
> Remember to brush your teeth twice after reading.

"You got any other pets I don't know about?" Sam asks with a shake of his head. 

"This one's not mine; she's Darcy's dragonet Idris," Steve says a fond smile curving on his lips. "I'm watching her for the night."

Idris tilts her head up at the mention of her name. She quickly turns over from where she had been letting Steve tickle her belly scales to begin pawing at Steve's shirt. The dragon wasn’t in the least bothered about Sam entering the apartment, though she seemed to stick close to Steve’s side instead of finishing wrecking the somewhat sad looking houseplant near the kitchen, or dragging one of his gym socks around enticing him to play tug-o-war. Though the image she made stumbling around with the sock dragging between her paws had been adorable, he hadn’t been quick enough to snap a picture but he fully intended to sketch one later that night. 

Steve was almost certain Idris was ignoring Sam for the simple reason that he didn’t give her a treat when she trilled a greeting from the safe perch of Steve’s shoulder. At the moment, though, she is purposely nudging him and letting out small cries of frustration that his red henley shirt won't budge. Steve laughs and strokes his fingers over the little dragon's smooth scales, paying special attention behind her ears. 

"Riiiight."

"You wanna hold her?" Steve says carefully scooping Idris into his hand. Her wings twitch and she leaps from his palm to dig her claws into his Henley over his heart. 

"Nah, I'm good, man, never was much good with dragons.”

“Says the guy who rides a big bird.” 

“Lucille is not a bird; she’s a giant falcon. Dragons are weird, their minds are all squirrely,” Sam says, tilting the mouth of his beer bottle at Idris crawling all over Steve. “Too many angles and colors... and teeth." 

"Idris won't bite," Steve says as the dragonet finds the chain to his dog tags. 

Idris makes a little trumpeting sound, paws digging under the open neck of the shirt. She bites down on the chain, tugging on it with all of her weight, wings spread out for balance. The chain shifts and Idris trills at the discovery of his tags, her front paws feeling over the warm metal, tongue flicking out to taste the tag before biting down on it. 

"Sure."

"Maybe a little bit," Steve laughs, a low rumble in his chest that the dragonet stills for, her little ears swiveling at the noise. With an indignant huff the little dragon crawls off Steve to wiggle behind one of the loose cushions on the sofa. Her color flickers to shift to the same blue as the cushion; unfortunately the sofa beneath the cushion is a much darker blue, and her tail sticks out, the tip curling around in a loop. 

“So when you’re done annoying your pet, tell me about the girl,” Sam says, leaning forward on his chair. His elbows rest on his knees, and the half empty bottle of beer dangles precariously from his fingertips. 

“What?”

“You didn’t think I was gonna let it slide that you are watching a baby dragon because it’s cute?”

“I like dragons,” Steve says, a little too quickly, and far too defensively. 

“Don’t go all Brother of Dragons weird on me. She hot?”

"Wilson," Steve says letting his voice tip over into Cap's tone of authority. 

“That shit doesn’t work with me, try Pietro. Tell me about Debbie.”

“Darcy,” Steve corrects under his breath. 

"Uh huh."

"What do you want to know?"

"Lemme guess: you haven't asked her out yet. So where'd you meet? That animal bakery you get those nasty ass things Belly likes?"

"Liberty," Steve says leaning back into the cushions. He reaches out to trace his index finger along the curl of Idris's tail. The tip of her tail twitches and wraps around Steve's finger. "Darcy works for Dr Foster."

"You're crushin' on a science nerd?"

Steve shrugs, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Truth be told, he was, even if he told himself he wasn't. No matter how many times he tried to push the thought of Darcy away, his mind fought back against him, dragging up her image in his head. 

He thought about the smile on her lips, the laugh that should have been annoying, the way color crept into her cheeks and her eyes got dark when she and the dragonet intruded on his bath, and the way her pulse jumped under the sweep of his thumb. Yeah, he wasn't forgetting that look in a hurry. He had never been great at flirting, or going after the dames, but he didn’t think he was doing too badly with Darcy, and that was the trouble. 

"Think the food'll be here any minute," Steve says, changing the subject as smoothly as he can. Which really wasn’t all that smooth; it was actually pretty damn rocky. He wiggles his fingers free of Idris' grip and stands up. His hands flutter a little until he shoves them in his pockets looking for the wallet that he left on the kitchen counter by his keys. 

“That isn’t an answer.”

The door chimes cheerfully and Steve barely holds back a sigh of relief. Talking when he wasn’t leading a group into battle only ever got him into trouble. "I’ll go get that..."

"Nice try, but the conversation ain't over, Steve."

“Yeah, yeah.”

....

"Wait," Steve says, gently pushing Idris back as he tips the contents onto his plate. 

"Hey, man, I don’t think she should be on the table," Sam asks foregoing the plate in front of him to sit back with a carton cradled in his hand. 

"She's fine."

Steve scoops out a little rice onto a saucer and adds a few tender pieces of chicken smothered in a rich, cream laden sauce. The dragonet is impatiently rocking from side to side, front paws clasped together, tiny wings spread wide.

The dragonet cries out and darts under Steve's arm and falls face first into his murgh makhani. 

“Hey,” Steve says setting down the fork in his hand and scooping Idris out of his dish. The little rock dragonet growls as she tears into a small piece of chicken, face covered in orange gravy and grains of rice. “Give me that,” he says trying to pluck the piece of chicken out of her paws.

“Told ya. My birds aren’t this much trouble.”

“Your birds took a crap all over the Battle of New York statue.”

“That wasn’t my fault and it was only on Iron Man.”

“True.” 

“That deserves a high five at least.”

“I gave you beer and a free meal.”

Idris hops backwards, avoiding Steve’s fingers. Clutching tight to her stolen morsel, she blows a raspberry at him. There’s a ring of green chili on the side of the piece of chicken and the dragon flicks out her pink tongue to swipe it into her mouth before Steve can get it away from her. 

“You aren’t gonna like that.” 

Idris chews on the morsel of chicken and chili, eyes sweeping back and forth between Steve’s hands with a muffled growl. Her eyes grow wide and her mouth drops open, a lump of chicken and chili plopping onto the table. 

The baby dragon coughs twice and puffs up her belly with air, but all that comes out of her mouth is a tiny puff of scented smoke and the angry hiss of a tea kettle left too long on the stove. 

You would think something that breathes fire could stand a bit of chili pepper.”

“Her fire’s not come in yet; she’s too young. Aren’t you, girl?” Steve says softly, scooping Idris up in his hand. Idris’s tail circles around his wrist, and he entices the dragonet with a piece of cheese naan. She takes the offering between her paws and examines it carefully before tearing into it. 

“I don’t get how you can charm all the ladies with scales but don’t know what to do when one of your own species shows the slightest bit of interest.”

“It’s a gift.”


	8. conference calls and movies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit more dragon fluff to rot your teeth. Do remember to brush twice after reading. I don't know why but writing Idris antics is one of my favourite things, I suppose in a way it's like watching animal clips and gifs. Pure fluff and it plays into all those dragon books and movies I read and watched as a kid. All those times when I wished I had my very own pet dragon, despite having no interest in lizards or snakes, just don't even get me started on unicorns. 
> 
> Anyway I hope this cheers up your day a little bit. 
> 
> xoxo 
> 
> Meri
> 
> PS; thanks go to Aenaria, Rainne, and Ladysarah for beta reading some of this fluff, and Aenaria for catching some of my many many typos.

They've been out on a mission for sixteen days and Steve's patience is wearing thin. Negotiations were tedious at the best of times but right now he'd give anything to be back in New York gliding through thermals with Liberty, or... It's there that he hesitates, letting his mind wrap around the other reason he wanted to be anywhere but surrounded by a bunch of scientists babbling excitedly. 

Tony was somewhere in the middle of things, which wasn't much of a surprise. Bruce sat in the Quinjet reading through reports and speaking to Drs Foster and Cho, via SI's secure satellite link. Steve is careful not to let his mind drift to thoughts about who else could be in Doctor Foster's lab. He was on a mission and even if it was sapping his will to live he was determined to keep his mind on said mission. Steve was no slouch in the brains department, but the hard sciences were always of more interest to Bucky than they were to himself, no matter how much math went into throwing the shield, and tactical planning. 

"Hey, Steve, still hiding in the clubhouse from Dr Stephens?" Natasha asks as she boards the quinjet. Her mouth curves up in that smile that says she knows everything even when she didn't. 

"No, why would I be hiding?" he says, failing at sounding entirely convincing.

"She's smart, pretty, single, and eager to get into your pants."

Natasha was right, Dr Tabitha Stephens was pretty, gorgeous brown eyes, and a wide smile. Someone an artist might sketch with her long neck and regal bearing, but he really wasn’t interested in dating her. Or taking the key card she slipped into his hand. "Romanoff, we talked about you talking up a new hobby. I hear crochet's all the rage."

"Oh, I don't know if you boys'll wanna join my Stitch n' Bitch."

"I'll make sure to bring the sweater I’m knitting," Steve laughs, unfolding his arms. He reaches out to grab a sandwich from the plate he brought in earlier. The science might be above his head, but the food was decent. A insistent trill sounds at the same time Bruce pushes back his chair and clears his throat. 

"Steve, I think you might want to take this call,” Bruce says.

“Who is it?” he asks, brain kicking into gear. 

“A friend of yours.”

Steve sighs and drops the roast beef sandwich back on the platter and heads over to Bruce’s station. On the centre of the screen is a small grey dragonet tilting her head from side to side. "Idris," Steve says softly taking a step closer to the monitor and leaning in so he’s in full view of the camera.

Idris hops up and down, chittering and trilling, wings flapping and the end of her tail held between her front paws. The dragonet disappears from the screen and few seconds later reappears with a cookie held between her paws. She looks so thoroughly pleased with herself that he can’t help but laugh.

"Hey, that's mine you little thief," Dr Foster says. Jane makes a grab for the cookie and the dragon ducks under her hand, becoming a grey blur as she moves to close to the camera. "Darcy, you need to get your pet she won't move and this is an important call," Jane calls over her shoulder. Dr Foster nudges Idris' tail away from a stack of print outs with a pen decorated in little streaks of blue lightening. 

The dragonet grumbles and hops to the side, tiny wings spreading out to guard the biscuit in her front paws she's been trying to offer him through the screen. Steve covers his mouth with his hand. idris’ color flickers from grey, to eggplant, to a colour not unlike the patriotic blue of his uniform. 

“Idris,” Steve rumbles and the dragonet’s ears swivel back and forth and her head dips low.. 

"You said it was okay to bring her in today, boss lady," Darcy says as she steps in view of the screen. 

"That isn't what I said at all," Jane sighs.

“Yeah it was,” Darcy says wrinkling her nose. 

“Darcy.”

"Idris, c'mere, baby girl," she coos softly. "Oh, hi, Ste...Captain." Darcy waves awkwardly at Steve on the screen as she reaches out to scoop Idris into her hands. The cookie drops to the floor and the little dragon hisses and flails in Darcy's grip, loudly and angrily protesting. "Hush, Idris."

“Hey, Darcy,” Steve says after a moment’s consideration that calling her Miss Lewis wouldn’t really hide much with the way he’s been cooing at her little pet. He can feel Natasha’s gaze burning the back of his neck, or maybe it’s just the heat of the flush of warmth he feels when Darcy smiles and waves at him. 

Idris twists her neck around, angry growl petering out and replaced with a happy trill. The dragon reaches up, mouth open to kiss Darcy's nose, small jaws opening wide to gently bite her mama. 

"Say goodbye, Idris," Darcy says. 

Idris whistles three sharp notes and Steve whistles three notes back to her. There is the sound of a crash and pop in the background of the lab and Darcy and Jane look off to the left and then back at one another. 

“I’ll call you back in a minute, Dr Banner. If it’s not dragons its equipment failure,” Foster says with a sigh and the screen cuts to black. 

Steve sighs through his nose and straightens his back and mentally counts to three.

"My teeth hurt that was so sweet."

 

"Natasha."

"It really was adorable, Steve," Bruce smiles rubbing at his shirt sleeve. "Why don't you ever talk so to the other dragon like that?"

"Fuck you."

"Language, Rogers, there might be dragon babies listening," Natasha smirks.

"You done?"

"Not even close," Natasha replies. "So dragon baby-daddy tell me about the dragon mama."

.....

"Shadow," Darcy snuffles, clutching a tissue to her heart. Tears track down her face and drip from under her chin. She's only partially aware of Idris moving around the room as Homeward Bound plays on. The dragon isn’t causing too much trouble as she moves back and forth from the bed to the corner where her hoard is hidden.

It really doesn't matter how many times she's watched the damn thing, it still makes her cry. Shadow the dragon emerges from the woods, one wing held at an awkward angle, left forepaw held up off the ground. The dragon hobbles over to his people, and his companions, Sassy the Himalayan cat and Champ the American Pit Bull. The last time Darcy indulged in movie induced crying jag was before the egg on her desk hatched into an adorable and very hungry dragonet.

Idris whistles three notes and nudges the back of Darcy's hand with the tip of her snout. The dragonet sits beside a tiny assortment of treasures taken from her hoard. A thimble, a British two-pence piece, a pearl button, and a smooth pebble of rose quartz. Idris chirps and picks up the polished bit of quartz and offers it up expectantly, pushing the cold stone against Darcy’s hand. 

"Oh, Idris, it's just a movie. You don’t have to give me your treasures because I’m crying like a ninny," she says taking the piece of rose quartz and rubbing her knuckle along the dragonet's spine. Idris purrs and fiddles with the thimble and more tears fall from Darcy's eyes. 

Darcy makes a 'come here' gesture with her hand and Idris bunches up on her hindquarters and leaps at Darcy's chest. Idris clutches at Darcy's sweatshirt, chirping and purring, stretching up her neck to lick at the salt tears spilling down her face. Darcy laughs then, through watery eyes and a snot bubble forming. 

“You are ridiculous,” she tells the dragonet. Idris puffs up her chest and trills three notes, blinking her big eyes at Darcy. The dragon’s tail wraps around Darcy’s wrist and the little dragon leans back into her hand exposing her soft belly for tickles. “...and shameless.” 

She tickles Idris' belly and watches the little dragon wiggle and squeal in delight as the film credits roll. The dragon's mouth is open, tongue lolling to the side. The alarm on her phone beeps and Darcy's stomach sinks. "Time to get ready," she says, rolling up from the bed. She doesn’t let her mind worry about the dinner party she’s getting ready for, or further thoughts of how she is going to quietly murder her boss. And she most definitely doesn’t think of the fact that Steve will be back in the city and possibly at the dinner. 

Nope. She doesn’t think about that at all as she pulls clothes out of the chest of drawers and tries to figure out what exactly what was meant to wear to ‘a casual dinner with the family’. Or, hell, what did ‘family’ mean because it certainly wasn’t her family and she was pretty sure you didn’t wander around in a ratty green tank top and pj bottoms with goofy cowboys herding sheep with lime green shepeard dragons. 

Idris trails after Darcy as she walks into the bathroom. The dragonet clambers over the lip of the shower stall and circles around chasing her tail and excitedly peeping before Darcy can kick off her slippers. The dragonet trills again, hopping up into the air and madly flapping her small wings. “Gimme a second please,” Darcy mutters under her breath. 

The dragonet clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth and looks up at Darcy with huge eyes. 

“God, you’re trouble,” she says leaning into the stall and touching the control panel. Warm water cascades down on Idris. The little dragon trills happily and dances about in the falling water. “Happy?”

Idris doesn’t answer, she just shakes the water from her wings and splashes about in the puddle forming around her paws. Stripping off her clothes, Darcy steps into the shower, the water soaking into her hair and plastering it back as Idris circles around her ankles. 

The water washes over Darcy and she imagined for a moment it washes all her negative thoughts away, and replenishes the energy she lost in crying over a kid's movie. She washes her hair with stupidly expensive shampoo that smells vaguely like the botanical garden in bloom and a lot more like scented markers she collected when she was eight. 

In a corner of the stall is a little perch made especially for small dragons to sit on, and Idris ignores the perch completely. She pounces on soap bubbles and and sprawls out in the soapy water swirling around Darcy's feet. The dragonet sulks mightily when Darcy switches off the water and wraps herself and Idris in matching white towels. 

Darcy dresses in a layered purple tunic top, one that miraculously hasn't been snagged by Idris claws. She pairs the top with black leggings, and her favorite brown boots. Smart casual with a hint of cleavage (if you squint). Idris is content to doze wrapped up in the towel until Darcy switches on the hairdryer. At that point the bundle of swaddled dragon lurches to the side, and with considerable effort, Idris wiggles free. 

Aside from food, collecting things for her hoard, pestering a certain icon of historical significance, and playing in water, Idris loved the hairdryer most of all. Darcy flipped the hairdryer from her hair to blow on Idris. The little dragon stretches out her wings and her neck, ears flat against her skull as the hot air warmed her, chirping in distress every time Darcy turns the hairdryer on her hair. 

It takes twice as long to get dressed and ready with Idris helpfully running off with hair ties, a lipstick tube, and a ring that had been forgotten in the bottom of the makeup drawer. One day Idris would be old enough to be picky about what things she chose to fill her hoard with, hatchlings weren’t especially fussy about what they hoarded, it just had to be shiny, or brightly colored for the most part. Today wasn’t that day.


	9. fly boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy meets Liberty Belle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks go to Rainne, Ladysarah, and Aeneria for all the enabling, hand holding, and beta reading ~~and probable dental bills incurred~~ during the writing of this chapter. 
> 
> If you missed it I wrote a Golden Book version of Liberty's story called the Difficult Little Dragon. I've made the verse into a series so it's easy to find. 
> 
> I am blown away by how much you all love this fluffy little story. But as I need to sink into the story to find some bit of happy it makes sense that others would to. Thank you so much for your continued readership and comments. ❤️

Darcy could count on one hand, with room to spare, the number of times she's been up to the penthouse. The Avengers’ lounge area. True, it was a floor above one of the labs Darcy frequented hot on Jane's heels; this time though...this time she could kiss Jane. "I could kiss you."

"Save it for fly boy out there," Jane says dryly, swirling the contents of her glass of wine. 

Darcy rolls her eyes and practically pushes her nose into her own glass, watching Liberty Belle and Steve flying in loops above the Tower. It was like a fairy story come to life. 

She’s been to air shows, every single one that she could get her parents to take her to, but watching Captain America and Liberty Belle flying together was a dream come true. More than that, it was history bursting from black and white newsreel into technicolor glory. 

“It’s not like...” Darcy says. At Jane’s raised brows, her shoulders droop a little. It really wasn't, though.They’re friends, he loves Idris. He’s Steve. And they are...what they are and that is good enough for her. “Whatever, Jane.” 

"I'm surprised you haven't asked him to take you on a flight," Jane needles. 

"It's not like I haven't thought about it, but..."

"But what?"

"It didn't seem right to ask."

"Since when has that ever bothered you?"

"Ugh."

"You can go out on the observation deck, Darcy; the doors aren’t locked," Ms Potts says. Darcy startles, nearly dropping the glass in her hand (sadly only water for the little dragon tucked into her arm). "You are friends with Steve, right?"

Darcy nibbles on her lip and glances out through the glass. Liberty is high in the air, flying in languid loops and and sharp drops that cause Darcy's breath to catch in her throat. It's tempting, so very tempting, to step out on the deck near the landing platform. Idris purrs softly and tightens her tail curled around Darcy's arm. There is a piece of roast beef in the dragonet's mouth and a piece of apple held between her paws. “Idris can’t fly yet.”

"We can watch her for you."

"I don't know..." Darcy says. It's tempting, so tempting, but last week, when she left Idris alone with Jane for an hour, she came back to a hysterical dragonet. It took three showers and an ungodly amount of coconut oil to rid the dragon of the inky black grease she had been covered in from the tips of her ears to the end of her long tail. But Pepper wasn't Jane and watching Steve and Liberty land would be so damn amazing. "You're sure?"

"I wouldn't have offered otherwise," Pepper says with a soft smile.

Ms. Potts strides across the distance between them on her gazelle like legs. Pepper's feet are bare, yet the woman moves with a grace Darcy couldn’t buy with a two for one coupon. The woman smiles, warm and inviting and Darcy can't help but smile back. "Idris," Pepper says, holding out a large pink shrimp. 

The dragonet looks up at her name. She cocks her head to the side, the bit of fruit in her paws forgotten as Idris leans forward scenting the air. The apple slice falls onto the floor and Idris wiggles furiously in Darcy's arms, whistling and grunting in excitement. 

Darcy hands the lead to Idris's harness over and and carefully transfers the dragonet into Pepper's arms. Idris is unimpressed, her scales shifting color until the moment Pepper holds the shrimp under her nose. Idris grabs it with greedy paws and stuffs the pink curl into her mouth, making small growling noises. "She'll be fine with me."

"Go on, Darce," Jane says. 

"Okay, yeah, okay," Darcy says. She flattens her palm against the door's scanner, and waits for the door to slide open. "Thank you."

“Since when do we run a pet sitting service, Pep?” Tony says from his spot behind the bar. 

“Tony,” Pepper says in a tone that says 'don't even think about it’. The surprising thing is that Tony actually listens, waving one hand in defeat and pouring a drink for Rhodey with the other. At least Darcy assumes he listens; she's too busy slipping through the doors and out into the late evening sunshine. Not that it really mattered if Tony Stark listened, because Pepper Potts was amazing.

....

Outside, the air is surprisingly cooler, or perhaps it just feels that way to Darcy. She likes parties well enough, but sometimes they are just draining. She can dish out her fair share of sarcastic and pithy comments when needed, but sometimes it feels like each moment costs a little bit more energy. 

Maybe she clings too hard to Idris; the baby dragon is the perfect little buffer for her to focus on when she needs a moment. And being stuck in a room full of larger than life personalities is draining, even if she ignores three-quarters of the conversations going on around her. 

Darcy lets her hands fall to the metal railing and blows out a slow breath. She tilts her head up to watch Liberty fold her wings and plummet. The dragon's feathery wings snap out moments before her clawed feet scrap the landing pad. Liberty Belle roars and Steve, laughing, untangles himself from the harness. 

The dragon catches sight of Darcy before Steve does, dark eyes narrowing and nostrils flaring. The dragon assess Darcy: for what, she doesn't know. But Liberty Belle's gaze is piercing. The dragon's eyes are a dark blue, sapphire or iolite, brighter and sharper than the drawn eyes in a children's book. The long feathers on her wings have an iridescence to them not unlike a bird's feather, or a rainbow slick of oil. 

Darcy's not afraid, not exactly; there is a bubble of excitement lodging under her ribs. Her hands flex on the rail and Liberty Belle turns her head and nudges Steve's arm. 

"Hey, watch it, Liberty," Steve says, with more affection than annoyance. 

Liberty huffs, nudging Steve harder and sings a little pattern of notes. 

Dragons have their own language; on the surface it is musical, but beneath each note is a range of thought and emotion that is achingly complex. Dragons brains are large in comparison to their evolutionarily distant and magically mundane cousins: birds and reptiles. 

Whatever Liberty Belle says to her human is beyond Darcy's understanding. Steve's reaction isn't. He jerks his head to the side and the smile lighting up his face shifts. She can't quite read the shift in his expression, and her stomach sinks. 

"Sorry, Ms Potts said it was okay. I can just skedaddle back in," Darcy says. Skedaddle? What the fuck, brain? Oh my god I'm a moron, a mouth breathing idiot one step above a dudebro. 

"Hey, Darcy, please stay. We don't mind do we, Liberty?" Steve says. He pats the side of Liberty's long neck. Liberty's brow ridges move up in a passably human expression of doubt. 

"I just wanted to say how amazeballs it was to watch you fly, both of you together, I just..." Darcy trails off, scrunching up her face a little. "Ugh, I'm a dork." Darcy covers her face with her hands. "Can we start over?"

"Little late for that," Steve says. 

Liberty sings in response, and Steve winces a little. "Liberty I'd like you to meet Darcy. Darcy I think you might already know of Liberty Belle."

"Duh."

"Be nice."

"Which one of us?" Darcy asks. Liberty Belle rolls her eyes and shifts her weight to lean into Steve, knocking him off balance. 

Steve's arms pinwheel and the dragon makes a chuckling sound like the rumbling of rocks. "Nice," Steve says and Liberty cocks her head to the side. The great Liberty Belle leans in close to Steve and licks the side of his face with her red tongue. The hair on Steve's head flicks up on the side and his face is covered in glistening dragon spit. "That ain't what I meant."

A laugh worms it's way up from Darcy's belly; it's loud and Darcy fails to slap her hand over her mouth in time. Steve makes a sour face at her as he rubs his hand over the side of his face. 

Liberty Belle ignores Steve completely and takes a few steps closer to Darcy. The dragon noses against Darcy's chest with great care, breathing in the scent of Idris, food, and Darcy's favorite fabric softener. "Hi, Liberty," Darcy says. She wonders if she should curtsy. Do people even do that anymore? 

The tips of Darcy's fingers twitch with her desire to reach out and touch the dragon's sleek head. So she does. "Gosh, you're pretty," she whispers, running her fingertips over the dragon's smooth blue scales. 

"Thanks," Steve says. 

"Ugh, not you," Darcy says. "Boys have such delicate egos, don't you think, Liberty?" 

Liberty snorts and opens her mouth in a toothy smile.. 

"You two aren't ganging up on me, are you?" Steve asks crossing his arms over his chest. 

Darcy's brain wanders down paths she chastises herself for, but it doesn't stop her from wondering if his jacket is as buttery soft as it looks on him. 

It's a good look he's rocking at the moment, leather jacket, dark denim, scruffy boots. The wild cowlick Liberty's given him doesn't distract from how pretty Steve is, even when fully dressed. Not that she was going to think about that. Nope. She focuses back on Liberty, the lines of an old story book running through her head. 

"She likes it if you scratch under her jaw," Steve says, reaching out to run his palm over Liberty's jaw to reach the right spot. He fingers scratch over the dragon's hide and Liberty's eyes close. The dragon's wings spread out and she sinks her head down into Steve's hand.

When Darcy reaches up to scratch her nails over Liberty's scales. Her hand brushes along Steve's and a jolt of electricity runs down her arm and swirls in her belly. Dragonflies in a hurricane. 

"Pardon me Captain Rogers, Ms Lewis, but Ms Potts has requested your presence inside."

"What?" Darcy says. She jerks her hand away from Liberty, away from Steve's calloused fingers. "Why me."

"I'm afraid it has something to do with your pet, Ms Lewis."

"Oh my god," Darcy exclaims dashing for the door without looking back to see Steve hot on her heels and leaving a perplexed dragon behind. She fumbles with the door, forgetting the palm plate until Steve leans over her and flattens his hand on the reader. 

Inside the penthouse Darcy scans the room into she finds Idris in a tangled heap on the floor, the chain of her harness tangled around her. The Little dragonet is puffed up as big as she can get, a curl of white smoke drifting up from her mouth. 

"Baby girl," Darcy coos levelling the crowd around her dragon with an angry glare. She kneels down in front of Idris and pulls carefully at the chain untangling a loop from around Idris' neck. 

Idris deflates, the slightly fishy scented smoke dissipating. Idris chirps and whistles and tears well up in her eyes. Darcy barely manages to get half the harness untangled when the dragonet scrambles up to be held close. Her small body trembles and angry tears sting Darcy's eyes. 

"It's not my fault," Tony says, hands held out wide. 

"We're sorry," Pepper says. "Tony is sorry.

"Excuse me, I am not to blame for the faulty lighter."

"Tony," Steve says. At the rumble of his voice Idris wiggles in Darcy's arms and peeps up from where she is half buried between her breasts. The little dragon is still crying, tiny little hiccuping sobs. Her claws dig into Darcy shirt and she whistles three broken notes, her name for Steve. 

Steve whistles back and reaches out his hand so Idris can smell him. The dragonet clutches at his fingers for a moment, then launches her little body at Steve. Idris's paws clutch at Steve's leather jacket and she buries her face in Steve's neck. "Shh," Steve soothes his fingers over Idris head. 

"Come on, it's a pet."

"Stark, just don't," Steve says, voice low, brooking no further argument as he cuddles the baby dragon tucked up under his chin. 

"oh my God," Jane whispers, the camera on her iPhone clicking.


	10. the sulky little dragonet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a bit of a cold so I've been poking at the verse in an attempt to cheer myself up. I had a pretty low mental day too the other day and i am very thankful for my friends who understand brains can be dumb sometimes. This little chapter is for all of you that have had some low days recently and need a little dragon to cuddle. This is the best I could do. 
> 
> Thank you for all your comments, kudos and continued love for this fluffy little verse

"Hey, Steve," Darcy says opening the door. "You're early."

"Hey, thought you might want someone to keep Idris occupied while you pack for your trip." Steve says. His eyes quickly scanning the room and returning to her. 

"Yeah about that. I was thinking..."

"Did you...do something with your hair?" He reaches his hand up to touch her hair and thinks better of it, dropping his hand awkwardly between them. 

"Kinda," she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. She tilts her chin down and wonders why she didn't grab a beanie hat before opening the door. Not that her hair looks bad, but she hasn't had bangs since elementary school and she feels too exposed. "Naomi, one of Dr. B's assistants, did it..."

"It's a good look."

"There was a thing..." 

"In the lab?"

"No, a thing with a candle. Somebody was a little too curious and managed to spark her fire," Darcy says, face scrunching up. "I guess I was lucky she only singed my hair." She reaches up to twist a few strands of shorter hair together. 

"I like it," Steve says touching the back of her hand. He slides his fingers over her skin to touch the ends of her hair. 

Darcy's stomach plummets down to her bare feet and the air feels so damn thick she can hardly draw enough air in. She can feel a flush of heat creeping up her chest and neck. Her neck aches from looking up at him. Steve's eyes are a little unfocused, brow furrowed, like he's thinking too hard. 

Maybe if she was just a little closer she could hear the whisper of his thoughts crashing into one another. Maybe he would hear her thoughts too, louder than the beating of her heart hidden beneath bone and tissue. 

A mournful three note whistle plays out and they jump apart, like kids caught doing something far less innocent. If only...

Steve clears his throat, eyes dropping away from Darcy and flicking to the open bedroom door. "Idris?"

"She's in the bedroom buried in her hoard. She won't come out for me."

"Ah," he says, still playing with the tips of Darcy's hair. It's distracting as hell and Darcy's sure her knees will give way at any moment. "Can I?"

"Yeah."

Darcy leads the way into the bedroom. "Just ignore the mess," she says waving her hand at the suitcase lying open, half disemboweled. 

"Not sure I can," Steve says stepping over a pile of discarded shoes. "That's a lot of shoes for two days out in the field."

"I'm great at packing," she says shoving at Steve's arm. 

"Really?" Steve asks. His eyes crinkle up as he smiles. Darcy huffs, kicking a pair of orange and purple spotted socks out of the way. 

In the corner, hidden by a chair, is a small hoard of treasure. The little dragon is plastered to the top of the small heap. A bit of something purple and lacy is covering her left wing, and a small stuffed pink octopus toy is balanced across her back. Idris's ears are back, eyes wide as saucers. A Lego minifigure is curled in her tail which she waves sheepishly, the plastic figure thumping against the floor. 

"I told her it was okay," Darcy says, "but she won't come out. I think she scared herself more than she scared me."

"Hey, there, baby girl," he says kneeling down and reaching out to run his index finger over Idris's head. The dragonet trills mournfully, dark eyes tracking back and forth between Steve and Darcy.

"She didn't even eat her biscuits," she says, pointing to the little pink and gold plate with two coin shaped dragon treats on it. "Maybe I should tell Jane I can't go with her."

"You can't stay home because this little monster scared herself," Steve says, voice pitched low and sweet. He digs his hand under Idris's body and lifts her up out of the corner. 

"But what if you get called off to save the world from certain doom?"

"Last time I checked Doom was still sulking in custody, when not busy admiring his own reflection."

"Truth. You're sure you want her for two days? She's been kinda a handful lately."

"I'm used to dealing with difficult dragons." Idris wiggles around in Steve's hold, her tail wrapping around his wrist, the Lego figure still held tight. 

"That was awful."

"If that's what you need to tell yourself to keep from laughing at my great jokes," Steve laughs and focuses down on the dragonet in his hands. "Hey there, pretty girl," coos as he fusses over the little dragon. 

Idris eats it up, chirruping, and whistling in Steve's hold, and forgetting that she had sulked away a good chunk of the day. Darcy clucks her tongue but can't help reaching out to stroke her fingers over Idris' warm scales. Idris tilts her head and nuzzles into her hand making little kissy sounds. Darcy snorts and dips her head down to kiss the dragonet on the mouth leaving a smear of dusky pink lipstick over Idris's smooth grey scales. 

...

"C'mere, girl," Steve says jingling the purple leather and copper chain harness. 

There is a minor thump and the sound of something rolling on the tiled bathroom floor, followed by a three note whistle, and the scampering of claws on the hall floor. Idris runs hell bent into the room on all fours, jumping every few steps, wings flapping madly. Her tail is curled around a pearl and silver tone fountain pen that she is half dragging behind her. 

The pen wasn't his, and he was certain it wasn't Darcy's either. 

"Wanna go out for a run with me?" he asks, crouching down. Idris makes a little trumpeting sound, pulls her wings in flat against her body and rolls over onto her back, exposing her pale belly scales. 

Steve tickles his fingers over her belly, a smile lighting up his face at Idris’s happy little squeals and the flailing of her limbs. He muses over how much the little dragonet has grown in the months since he first held her. She was tiny then - barely filled the palm of his hand - and now she was twice that size, and perhaps a teaspoon or two more.

When she's had enough of playing with his fingers, and her playful bites turn sharp Steve scoops her up and begins the overly complicated process of getting her in the harness. The dragonet is no help, squirming and puffing up her chest and belly with air as he struggles to connect the fine chains. Liberty didn't give him half the trouble as this little hatchling does.

He snaps the leash to the harness and lifts Idris up onto his shoulder. Idris huffs indignantly, battering the side of his head with her wing as she settles into her perch. "You ready to go?" 

Idris ignores him, and burrows into the hood of his sweatshirt. She wiggles, and squirms, and chirps contentedly. "I'll take that as a yes," he says, stuffing the rest of her lead into the hoodie's pocket. He locks the door and heads for the elevator keeping his steps light and even for the sleepy dragonet in his hood. 

The dragonet is asleep before the elevator hits the ground floor. A tiny whistling snore reaching his ears. The night before hadn't gone too badly, Idris kept him entertained and distracted him from the dark thoughts that swirled in his head at night. Idris kept checking the door at least once an hour looking for Darcy. She wasn't content until Steve called Darcy on Skype and let the little dragon chitter and squeak and hold up various objects she'd claimed as her own. 

So far that morning the only damage Idris had made was digging up a potted plant, and repeatedly pouncing on his sock covered feet, and wiggling her way into his laundry basket to drag his dirty clothes all over the bedroom. Especially his dirty socks. Why the dragonet was fascinated by his socks was not something he wanted to know.

Outside the tower the morning is cool, the pavement beneath his running shoes damp. Oil slick rainbows float on the surface of a puddle as he waits for the light to change. Steve digs his iPod out, selects part two of **the BBC radio dramatisation of Good Omens** , and pops in the earbuds. 

...

One hour later...

(More or less.)

"So which one has you wrapped tighter around her little finger, the pipsqueak or the girl?" Sam gasps out between breaths. 

"Has the lack of oxygen gotten to your little bird brain?" Steve says, digging into his pocket to offer Idris a strip of dried mango. 

The little dragonet takes the dried fruit with her paws and nuzzles Steve's hand in thanks.

"Birds used to be dinosaurs same as that little bugger," Sam huffs. He pulls out his phone, swipes his thumb up to activate the camera. "Say star spangled."

"Not a chance, Wilson," Steve laughs and Idris trills from her perch plastered to his head. The dragonet's mouth is open, tongue lolling to the side, wings outspread. "You catch your breath yet? Still got another two miles to run."

"The enhanced human says to his slower, better lookin' friend."

....

❤️ 17 likes  
**samthemanwilson** : Met this loser while out on my run. #ladiesman #not #thedragoniskindacute **@kilroywashere1918**  
**kilroywashere1918** : I need better friends.  
**kilroywashere1918** : Hey **@penniesinthegarden** thought this might be relevant to your interests. :)  
**penniesinthegarden** : OMG. You dork. Be good to my baby. **@kilroywashere1918** #idristhedragonet #dragonsofinstagram  
**kilroywashere1918** : I'm always good, **@penniesinthegarden**  
**samthemanwilson** : **@kilroywashere1918** SMH


	11. soap bubble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idris is a pain, Steve thinks too much, and Darcy forgets to say anything at all about her trip with Jane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must admit that writing this story has been my happy place the last few months, its so incredibly fluffy and I love it. Idris has utterly stolen the show and more than a few hearts. Thanks go to the lovely Aenaria and Rainne for listening to me whine about fluffy dragon feels, and then betaing my sometimes disjointed words. I hope you all enjoy this little chapter. <3

"Are you this much trouble for Darcy?" Steve asks as Idris pounces on a soap bubble.

The dragonet trills twice, bobbing her head up and down. She bunches up her body and leaps up at him. Steve catches her in his hands, shampoo running down his face. "Aw, hell. Ask a stupid question..." His words trail off and he pushes back the all too vivid thought of Darcy playing in the shower with the bundle of scales and happy squeals in his arms.

She's happy then, tail wrapping tight around Steve's wrist, in case he thought putting her down was an option. The spray of water washes the soap from his eyes and Idris rests against his chest, letting the water rush over her wings and back. She twists her neck around, letting the hot water fill her open mouth. Idris spits the water out and straight into Steve's face. "Thanks," he says, shaking the water away. 

The little dragonet whistles three notes and bumps her forehead against his bare chest. Showering with a small dragon clinging to him is more difficult than he thought, but Idris doesn't appear fazed at all by his awkward turning and low curses. She does chitter angrily when he switches the shower off and bundles her into a warm towel. 

By the time she works her way out of the towel, Steve is busy working up a lather with a brush to shave. He dabs the lather over his face, sets the brush down, and picks up the razor. 

Idris preens in the mirror, admiring her scales and switching colours rapidly. A yellow so bright it makes Steve's eyes sting, the glossy brown of Darcy's hair, pale green, the blue of his uniform, and back to her soft grey with faint purple markings. Satisfied with her display she moves away from the mirror to investigate the soap covered bristles of the brush. 

"Careful," he cautions, tilting his head to the side to make the first pass of the razor over his skin.

She breathes in too close and snorts out a nose full of bubbles. Idris opens her mouth to hiss and a perfect iridescent soap bubble floats up into to air. With a clap of small paws and a happy trill the dragonet obliterates the bubble. 

Idris chirps thoughtfully and when he glances down he nearly nicks himself with the razor. Idris balances on her haunches, tail drooping over the edge of the counter, and wings tucked in tight to her back. The little dragonet's head is cocked to the side at the same angle as Steve's. Her front paws are covered in foam and she presses it into the side of her jaw and neck. 

"You shavin' too?"

The little dragon bobs her head and makes a kissing sound as she admires her reflection. 

If his phone wasn't plugged in and charging he'd have captured the moment to send to Darcy. He wasn't nearly as vain as a dragon, but Steve knew he looked good without a shirt on. Maybe I'll sketch it later. 

The rock dragonet edges over to perch on the lip of the sink. She whistles once and pats at the faucet. Steve doesn't move quick enough and Idris pulls at the tap, making little sounds of frustration. 

"Idris," Steve says, stifling a laugh before it spills from his mouth. He pushes her to the side and turns the water on enough for Idris to dip her head under the water and wash the lather down the drain. 

Idris yawns hugely and nudges Steve in the stomach. "When I'm finished," he says. He swipes the razor over his stubble-covered cheek. The little dragon trills softly and hops down from the counter. The pads of her paws leave tiny prints on the tiles as she exits the bathroom and crosses the bedroom to climb up the side of the bed. 

She doesn't have fur so it's not as messy as a dog but she is quite happy as she rucks up the neatly made covers and the clean shirt laid out at the foot of the bed. When she finishes rubbing the clean smell from her scales, Idris curls up on Steve’s shirt in the beam of sunlight crossing the end of the bed. Steve sighs, a smile tugging at his mouth as he goes back to shaving the whiskers from his face. 

The dragonet is fast asleep by the time his skin is cleanly shaven. A tiny whizzing snore reaches his ears as he digs out clean clothes and steps over the small toys scattered over the floor. Steve's barely pulled up a pair of jeans when the door chimes. Idris' ears swivel but she doesn't open her eyes, just gives a little sigh and wiggles her nose further under the shirt.

"Don't worry, I've got it," he says to himself. Steve pulls on a plain white t-shirt as he walks barefoot across the apartment.

"Hey," he says opening the door as he tugs his shirt down over his abdomen. "Darce."

Darcy's eyes follow the movement and the tip of her tongue peeks out between her lips. "Heeey, Steve, I brought donuts," she says, hands twitching on the string tied box. "Thanks for taking care of Idris for me...she really loves you. where is she? I missed my baby girl."

"I...she missed you too," Steve says, taking the offered bag. "She's asleep on the bed."

"Lucky girl," Darcy says under her breath. 

It's not the first time Darcy's made comments like that, no not at all, but this time there is something a little different in her voice. He's never been great at parsing out the meaning behind a woman's words when it came to things like this. Whatever this was, it felt like waiting on the edge of a cliff. Fall or fly. 

"I'll show you," Steve sets the donut box on the coffee table. His brain doesn't catch up to what he's said until he's leading Darcy down the hall to his bedroom. 

"Aw," Darcy coos at the sight of Idris laying out on the rumpled blue and white duvet cover. The little dragon is spread out flat on her belly, limbs stretched out, tail curled loosely, wings spread wide, face hidden under a fold of blue shirt.

He watches Darcy take in the sleepy dragonet and the clutter of his room. He really should do something about the stacks of books and notepads lying around on every available surface and the floor. It's more of a mess than it was all those weeks ago when Idris and Darcy interrupted his bath. "I'll put the coffee on."

"You know, I, uh, I missed you too," Darcy says catching his hand and briefly tangling her fingers in his. 

Steve's heart lurches in his chest. Darcy's eyes are staring straight ahead, bright and blue, the apples of her cheeks glow a soft red that has nothing to do with blusher and powder. He squeezes her fingers and Darcy looks up at him, lip caught between her teeth.

He can feel his temperature rise, moments before their mouths meet in the empty space between bedroom and doorway. Darcy's mouth opens under his, and her hands press over his chest, above the rapid tattoo of his heart. Lipstick, coffee, sugar and salt swirl on his tongue. 

Salted caramel, he thinks, looping an arm around the curve of her waist. Darcy nips at his bottom lip and the sound that rumbles up from his chest is half whine, half growl. 

"Finally," Darcy laughs against his mouth, her breath tickling sensitive skin as she sinks back on her heels. Her chin is cocked at a rather smug angle, lips and cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of pink. 

"Didn't know you were waitin' all that long," he says. It's a lie; at least, he is pretty sure she's been waiting for this moment as long as he has. God, he should have pulled her close back on the rooftop. Then at least the grief he got from Liberty and everyone would have been worth it. 

"You know..." Darcy says, words trailing off as she rolls up onto her toes to kiss him. If the first kiss was innocent, this one was anything but. Steve's hands wander first, just under the edge of Darcy's blouse. He mentally tells himself off for it, but it's been awhile. Darcy's hands mirror his at his waist, slipping around to his back. Her fingers brush against his spine and Steve shudders. He breaks the kiss, backing up a half step, breathing slow to slow the rapid beat of his heart. Darcy looks dazed, brow furrowed, eyes lust-blown, and a warm burst of pride radiates out from his chest.

“Darcy, I…” Steve begins words cutting off as his phone plays the Wilhelm Scream. "Damn it. Sorry, it's..."

...

"S'okay, heroics and stuff, I get it," Darcy says. “Besides, I think someone is calling my name.” She does get it. Sort of. And if she was absolutely honest with herself she was a little relieved at the call. Kissing Steve was terrifying, in a good way. Maybe not one of the top ten kisses in the history of the world, but it was perfect, and overwhelming, and Steve. 

"Is it an emergency? Or did Clint fall in a dumpster again?.....No, m'busy. Darcy's here...maybe...no, she's here to pick up Idris....yeah, I know she's a dragon and not a human baby," Steve says into the phone. His voice trails off as he paces down the hall. 

Idris trumpets sleepily, stretching herself up on her toes. She's half tangled up in the arm of the crumpled blue shirt she's been sleeping on. 

The dragonet hisses and flails, and falls over on her side. A bundle of anger hidden in blue button down. The tip of her tail swaying from side to side. Darcy takes half a dozen steps closer to the bed, and the little dragonet peeps mournfully. 

“Hello, baby girl,” Darcy says sitting down on the end of the bed. At the sound of her voice Idris trills twice, and thrashes about, a puff of smoke trailing up from the edge of the fabric. "Shhhh," Darcy soothes, running her palm over the dragonet's back straightening out her wings. 

She untangles the shirt from Idris, who once free launches herself at Darcy's chest with a triumphant whistle. Small claws dig into the cotton of Darcy's green blouse as the baby dragon frantically licks her face and neck. 

The warm pads of Idris's paws tickle Darcy’s skin, and the dragonet purrs loud enough that Darcy can feel the vibrations through Idris's body. "I missed you too."

Steve’s still standing in the doorway eye focused someplace other than in the room. The phone is cradled to his ear and he's rubbing the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "...I'll be there in ten," Steve says, face dropping into a pout. "I'll think about it, Nat."

Idris nibbles at Darcy's left ear; the bites are gentle but it makes her squirm and tilt her head away. "Who wants belly rubs?" she asks softly. Idris drops like a stone into her lap rolling over to expose the pale scales of her belly, tinged pink around the edges. “Such a belly rub slut."

"Can you blame me?" Steve rumbles. 

"Oh God," Darcy laughs, face warming beneath his steady gaze. Steve's eyes crinkle up as he slips the phone into his pocket. 

Idris rolls over and starts nudging her face under the bottom of Darcy's green jersey blouse, until the smooth fabric catches on her wings. "Stop that tickles," Darcy says, failing to keep the dragonet under control. 

"I think she mighta missed you a little bit," Steve says. He crosses his arms over his chest, the corner of his mouth twitching. There's a smudge of pink lipstick on his chin. 

"Just a little bit," Darcy says, brushing her fingertips under her bottom lip self consciously. She imagines she can still feel the tingle from his mouth on hers,. The dragonflies in her belly won't keep still.


	12. tanks for the memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liberty Belle finds a treasure for her hoard...more or less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This intermission chapter wasn't meant to be, but here it is anyway. I'm laying the blame at ladycheeky's feet. Words have been slow lately, and so has most everything else it seems. It's been a bit of a stressful end of summer, but even when the words wouldn't flow this verse has remained in my head, and in my heart. Because dragons. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your love of this verse and the beautiful comments you have left. I hope that Idris and Liberty live in your hearts as much as they live in mine. 
> 
> The next chapter will be back to Idris causing trouble for Darcy and Steve, but in the meantime enjoy this little scene of Liberty Belle and the Howling Commandos.

1944

"No," Steve says. He crosses his arms over his chest, feet square in the mud. Liberty flicks her ears back, a low growl rumbling through her chest followed by the whiplash crack of her tail. It was too early for dealing with anything short of Hydra attacking, and that included the hoarding tendencies of dragons. "You can't have it."

"Don't you know you should give a dame whatever she wants," Bucky says, handing Steve a steaming cup of what Falsworth considered coffee. At Bucky's words Liberty Belle shifts her weight and leans towards Bucky, lowering her head to his eye level. Barnes startles a little, switches his own tin cup of mud flavored coffee from his left to his right hand. He rubs his fingers over Liberty's ear, and a low purr rattles down his arm. 

"She can't have this," Steve says. He swirls the coffee in cup and takes a precautionary sip. The substance was black, oily, and bitter; they’d run out of sugar and jam weeks ago. If left long enough to cool the coffee turned lumpy and was a little like chewing gristle from an old bit of beef. Bucky was convinced it was better for cleaning guns than the little tin of grease the army provided. 

"What can't she have?" Bucky asks. A livid bruise covers his left cheek bone but the smirk on his face is closer to his eyes than the day Steve found him strapped to a table. Bucky was still uncomfortable with Liberty Belle and more often than not the two would glare at each other in a silent contest that man nor dragon ever seemed to win. 

"The tank," Steve says. He juts his chin in the direction of the tank, and swallows another lump of coffee down. 

"It's bigger than her."

"I know."

"Can she lift it? Shouldn't be too much trouble; she flies with you on her back," Bucky muses. 

"Buck," Steve says. He curls his gloved fingers around his belt, and sighs through his nose. 

Liberty huffs out a draconic laugh, a sound like the rolling of rocks in the surf. She rubs her head into Bucky, a familiar enough sign of affection that Steve was used to from the dragon. Bucky, however, wasn't used to the dragon showing more than a cursory glance and a willingness to sleep with half the Commandos leaning against her hide for the warmth.

"Oof," Bucky squawks, pinwheeling his arms out to keep on his feet. Coffee splashes out of the tin cup and covers Bucky's arm and Liberty's snout. "I was on your side!" Bucky shakes the coffee from his fingers and glares at the difficult dragon at his side. 

Liberty blinks slowly and raises her head, feathered wings snapping out to arc over her back. The draft from her wings ruffles the loose strands of hair poking out from under Steve's helmet. Liberty whistles low and hopeful, and tilts her head to the side. Her gaze lands on the tank across the clearing, where it's been nestled in the mud since the night before. 

The mud was hell, but it wasn't the problem, neither was Dugan's driving, Not this time anyway. The problem was the engine belching out more smoke than an ice dragon. Dernier and Jones had spent the better part of the morning tinkering with the engine, and avoiding the somewhat fermented stew Falsworth concocted for the morning meal. 

"Have it your way, Liberty, " Steve sighs, "..if you can carry it, you can-"

The dragon pushes off from the one bit of ground in the clearing that wasn't ankle deep in mud and less pleasant things. 

"-have it," he finishes as the dragon flies above their heads. "Damn it."

"She's your problem now." Col. Phillips words rattle though Steve's head, and he's certain he deserved every difficulty Liberty Belle found for him. 

"She isn't really gonna lift that is she, Cap?" Morita asks, around a mouthful of wizened apple.

"She'll try," Steve says. He crosses his arms over his chest, and watches the dragon circle above the clearing. 

"Tank's had it, Cap," Gabe says. “Faster on foot and wing without it.”

"Told ya we shoulda kept that big green bastard and not that hunk of metal," Dum Dum says, boots squelching in the mud. He skirts around the deeper puddles, and takes a swig from a metal flask then rubs a hand over his whiskers. 

"She was ready to clutch," Gabe says, "Sides we weren't exactly given this tank any more than we were given that dragon."

Liberty folds her wings, and plummets to the earth, snapping them out again just before her claws touch the battered German tank they borrowed. The thing still had a Hydra emblem painted on the side. The dragon grips the tank tight, wraps her tail around the main gun and beats her wings hard.

"Bet you fellas a cigar and three quarters of a flask a whisky ol' Belly can't lift that piece a shit," Dum Dum grins.

"I dunno, she's stronger than she looks," Jim says. 

"Put your money where your mouth is, Morita," Dum Dum says.

"If I had any I would," Morita says, "I got two jimmies and some battery acid."

"A Hydra dagger says she won't," Jones says. 

"Done," Dum Dum calls out. "You in, Barnes?"

"Not this time."

Liberty Belle screams in frustration, wings beating frantically as she fights against gravity. She spits out a column of flame that evaporates an ice rimmed puddle, and bakes a patch of mud into tile. Steve sighs, knocking back the last greasy lump of coffee.

“Get your gear ready,” Steve says. He hands the cup to Bucky and sets off across the mud about the same time the swirling grey clouds let loose a shower of half frozen rain. 

He can still hear the Commandos arguing and betting as he closes in on the side of the tank. Liberty has shifted her strength and weight to lift the left tread of the tank an inch or two out of the mud. “Liberty, stop messin' around. It’s time to go, we have a mission,” Steve calls out. 

The dragon tilts her head away from him, shifts her paws to turn her body away from him. She vocalises her displeasure with a low trumpeting sound that Steve feels rattle his bones more than he can hear. She shakes her wings free of droplets of cold water, that splash over Steve's face and shoulders. 

"I'm going," Steve says, turning his back on Liberty Belle. He takes two steps back to where his men stand in the shelter of an obliging pine tree. The dragon's wings beat heavily in the freezing rain behind Steve. "Leave the tank and you can have my last bar of chocolate."

Liberty grumbles and scrapes her claws across the tank.

"Take it or leave it, but it's all I got to offer, Liberty. That tank won't move, it's too heavy and the engine's bust," Steve says. He turns on his heel and digs the bar of chocolate out of a pouch on his belt. 

Liberty's eyes narrow and her claws scrape against the metal again. She huffs out a small white cloud of smoke that dissipates slowly in the damp air. 

"Last chance," Steve says. He arches a brow and digs his heels deep in the mud. A drop of icy water drips down his spine and he sets his jaw. Steve tears the packet open and brings the bar to his mouth. 

Liberty roars and snaps her tail, the crack is as loud as thunder. 

Steve ignores the pelting rain, and the jeers of the Commandos, and sinks his teeth into the chocolate. He bites off the corner of the bar. The chocolate is rich and sweet on his tongue, as close to bliss as he was gonna get in the shadowy grey area between missions. His eyes never leave Liberty's as he peels back more of the wrapper. Chocolate wasn't something for a dragon to hoard but it was definitely something to savor. 

The air whistles out of Liberty's lungs and her wings fold back. The dragon hops down from the tank, paws splashing on the muddy ground. It was perhaps a little unfair, considering Steve knew exactly how much of a sweet tooth Liberty Belle had. Strategy was never fair. 

"Deal?" he asks. 

Liberty Belle nods her head twice. Steve strips the wrapper off and tosses the chocolate bar at Liberty. The dragon snatches it from the air, and Steve turns in the mud, unable to keep the grin from his lips. 

"Told ya, ain't a dragon alive more stubborn and devious than Steve Rogers," Bucky calls out.


	13. tumbling dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idris plays and Steve is a bit of a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little chapter has been a long time coming. I started it ages ago but finding the words to finish it has been a struggle, my brain just didn't want to get with the game. It's ridiculous how much I love this verse, and think about it quite often even when I have trouble lining up words one after another.

Pining was not a thing Darcy did. Nope. But two weeks later and and no word from Steve and Darcy was more than a little bit worried, anxious even. She definitely wasn’t pining. She left all the pining for her pet to do, as destructive as that could be to the one surviving cactus that lived in a yellow Puente Antiguo Credit Union coffee mug. 

The cactus and the mug leapt off of the dresser to leave a small crater of dirt and pottery shards on the floor, and a pissed off dragonet sat, tail twitching, wings and ears folded tightly back. While Darcy cleaned up the mess, Idris ran back and forth on the dresser top, whistling three notes again and again. Darcy could still feel phantom prickles sticking into her skin. The only time Idris appeared momentarily remorseful was when Darcy cut her index finger on a shard of pottery. 

Two nights later, when Darcy awoke to the sound of something falling in the bathroom and rolling across the floor. Flicking on all the lights revealed Idris sitting in Darcy’s makeup drawer covered in liquid foundation, a sparkly silver eyeshadow that Darcy never wore, and a tube of red lipstick held tight in the dragonet’s paws. 

Currently Idris was rooting around the couch cushions after growing bored of playing an age appropriate small dragon game on the Starkpad. The dragonet was having more fun than Darcy, who was neck deep in spreadsheets (interspersed with a less than healthy dose of tumblr, and zoning out to passive aggressive arguments on Facebook. 

“Five more minutes and we can go get coffee and treats,” Darcy murmurs. 

Idris chirps and roots under one of the couch cushions until it slips off the sofa. Idris tilts her head, paws worrying at the edge of the cushion where it met the sofa. With a trill, and total disregard for her own safety Idris throws herself down the cushion, half rolling down to the floor with a squeal of delight.The angle was perfect for a tiny dragonet to slide down. 

“Oh my god, you little dork.”

Darcy took more video than was needed, and uploaded two different clips to Instagram, tagging Steve in them even if she was sure he wouldn’t see them until whatever super secret mission he was on (that she totally wasn’t worried about) was over and he was back to whatever passed as reality these days. 

Idris hops up on the sofa with a little grunt, tucks her wings in tight and tumbles down the cushion and onto the floor. Tiny happy squeaks and trills fill the room and the dragonet clambers up on the sofa for another go, this time rolling herself into a small grey scaled ball and bouncing down the cushion to roll to a stop at Darcy's metallic green painted toes. 

Darcy touches the ball of dragonet with her big toe and Idris unfurls, squirming around on her back, paws flailing. "You’re such a silly little thing," she says, wiggling her toes on the baby dragon's belly. 

Idris squeaks, and whistles, grasping Darcy's foot with her paws. The dragonet's tail wraps around Darcy's ankle. Darcy rotates her ankle from side to side, and Idris trills. They play for a few minutes until sharp little teeth bite down on Darcy's toe ending the game.

"Ow, ow, ow," Darcy cries. The bite doesn't hurt, not really, but the show she's been watching on Animal Planet, between Too Cute! Dragons and Dog Cops, said dragons were incredibly empathic animals (duh), and learned from a young age to be careful with the people they considered theirs. 

Darcy knew about dragons well enough, but the reality of caring for one was a lot different than watching Spike and Tyke on the Tom & Jerry series. Her crying ploy works, the dragonet's eyes go wide, her pink tongue flicking out over the bottom of Darcy's foot. Little whimpering sounds are followed by Idris’s small paws carefully touching Darcy’s foot, dull claws tickling. 

“Oh, come here, Idris,” Darcy says, clapping her hands together once and opening them up. Idris squeals and climbs up her leg, wiggling and lunging up to pepper her face with sloppy dragon kisses. 

Almost immediately Idris turns around in circles making Darcy’s chest into her bed. She eyes the cushions again with a mournful sigh, nuzzling her chin into Darcy’s cardigan, and curling her tail lazily around Darcy’s shoulder. 

Soon the little dragon’s sleepy sounds mesh with the music playing from her laptop and Darcy returns to mostly ignoring work stuff in favor of delving deep into the rabbit hole of YouTube clips and DIY dragon toys on Pinterest. It keeps her thoughts from Steve, more or less, while he’s in DC at SHIELD’s HQ and doing some bit of super secret missions that he wasn't supposed to talk about and she wasn't supposed to know anything about. 

She doesn't scour the news for whatever scraps of information she could find about the mission Steve was on. But she finds it anyway. 

Breaking News. Captain America is...  
.....  
Three days later.

There is a stone in her throat that has no business being there. Her hair's a mess, and she’s still got on an inside out t-shirt that had been relegated to pajama status two nights before. It was stupid early in the morning, but JARVIS had been kind enough to inform her that Captain Rogers was now within the tower under the expert care of a Dr Cho and a full staff of the best people Stark could buy. The medbay is quiet, the only ones about a bored looking nurse and Sam Wilson. 

“He’s sleeping but you can go in,” Sam says. There's a warm smile on his lips but his eyes look worried, and tired. 

“But the nurse said...”

“Steve says you’ve never listened to authority before, so it's a bit late to start now.”

“Steve doesn't know everything.”

“Don’t I know it,” Sam says, shaking his head a little. The smile on his face widens, reaches up to warm his eyes. 

“And Idris?” Darcy asks, fighting to keep ahold of the squirming dragonet. Sam hitches his shoulder up and pushes the door open wider so they can see Steve lying pale against white sheets. Something curls in Darcy’s chest, tighter and tighter, talons clutching tight at her throat. 

Idris trumpets loudly and throws her small body towards Steve, tail whipping back and forth, wings flapping in Darcy’s face, and tiny paws stamping out a silent tattoo on her arm. Darcy’s tight hold on Idris' collar is the only thing keeping the little dragonet from face planting on the tiled floor. “Idris, calm down.”

Had she thought about anything other than hauling ass to see Steve with her own eyes, then she would have bothered to put the harness on. As it is Idris is becoming more and more frantic in her arms, squirming and whimpering, in between the three note whistle she uses to greet Steve. 

 

Steve’s eyes flutter open and he turns his head towards the door, and the hold on Darcy’s throat loosens enough that a small shocked gasp passes between her lips. A shiver of heat rushes down from the top of her head to her toes, and it takes several breaths before she feels like she can keep standing on her own feet. 

"Hey, Darce," Steve says, voice low and gravelly. "Idris." The last word hisses out like a kettle boiling on the stove. Darcy loosens her grip on Idris’ collar a fraction, and the little dragonet breaks free. 

Idris launches herself in the air, small wings flapping madly, but it's more vaguely controlled fall than graceful flight. The dragonet lands on the edge of the bed, claws digging into the blankets desperately. Whimpering and crying Idris scrambles up the bed, rushing forward to get to Steve, tiny paws dancing across the bedding almost in time with the music playing softly from Steve’s ipod. The music pulls at Darcy’s focus and a tiny smile settles on her lips for a heartbeat or two. The Lord of the Rings soundtrack, God, Steve was such a nerd. 

"Hey, sweet...heart," Steve murmurs, letting the little dragon kiss and touch his bruised face, cracked lips, and the stitches marching across his left cheek. The dragonet nudges the edges of the bandages covering so much of Steve’s chest and arms, and crawls under the edge of the blanket and back out again tail whipping out to smack the right side of Steve’s face. 

“Hush,” Steve coos, curling his hand under the dragonet’s belly, and tucking her into the crook of his arm. He whistles a few notes and Idris whispers back in between whimpering and wailing. 

Idris leaps up and bounds to the foot, trilling at Darcy twice, then running around the edge of the bed. She’s purring so loudly Darcy wonders if her little chest will explode with the violence of it. The dragonet licks over a livid red and purple stitched cut on Steve's left cheek and curls up into a ball at his shoulder, resting her chin on Steve’s chest. 

Darcy feels jealous for a moment watching her pet do what she wishes she could do, what she is afraid to do. "You look like hell," she says, feet stuck to the floor somewhere between the door and the bed. One kiss. The words repeat in her head, tumbling over till they lose all meaning the more she tries to sort out what they mean and what she feels. 

"Thanks, it's the...look I was going for," Steve says.

“Don't be such a jerk,” she says, reaching out to nudge his shoulder gently with her knuckles. Steve winces at the touch, but the good corner of his mouth twitches up a fraction. 

“Can't help it. Bucky used to say that I-,” Steve hesitates a moment, swallowing hard. He reaches up a bandaged arm to run his fingers over Idris’s head. “I was born with a mouth ready to hold soap, and a face ready to punch.”

“I can see that,” she says, sliding her hand up Steve’s shoulder to curl her fingers over his hand. Idris chirrups and licks the back of Darcy’s fingers. Darcy sits on the edge of the bed with more care than Idris bothered to show. “Your mouth’s not bad at kissing either.”

“Can you tell Natasha that for me?”

“Do I wanna know?”

“Maybe later,” Steve says. There’s a soft smile tugging at his lips and he twists his hand so their fingers lace together on his chest. “He was there. Pulled me out of the river before Liberty could reach me.” 

She doesn't ask who, she doesn't need to, the whole damn tower was buzzing with news of the fall of SHIELD, the data dump, and the Winter Soldier who once was Steve’s childhood friend. “I know,” she says, voice raspy with emotion. Steve grips her hand a little tighter and Idris rests her head over their joined hands for the space of three heartbeats. The dragonet twitches, her scales rippling with flash of blue, and she bunches her body up and scrambles to dive under the blankets until only the very tip of her tail can be seen. 

“Tell me what I missed,” Steve asks. He shifts beneath the blankets, drawing his knees up to create a tent for Idris. 

“Aside from Idris’ reign of terror against my makeup drawer and the sad remains of my third favorite mug?” she asks. At Steve’s nod Darcy makes herself more comfortable on the bed, stretching out beside Steve, crossing her booted ankles. 

She tells him about Jane’s latest paper, rereading American Gods, and wallowing in a sea of blankets and netflix after a particularly bad day. When her throat goes dry, and twin snores are coming from Steve and Idris Darcy wiggles her fingers free of Steve’s hold, and pushes back the unruly hair at his temple. She holds back her own hair, leaning in to brush her lips over his forehead. His lashes twitch, and he takes a deeper breath, but Steve doesn’t wake, nor does the little lump snoring away blissfully beside him. The dragonflies in Darcy’s belly swirl, puffing up their imaginary chests with fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The timeline for this story is somewhere after Avengers and including events in Winter Soldier, though Steve remains in New York where he meets and befriends Sam (I guess you could say its more comic verse in that respect). So by the time Steve is sent to DC for whatever SHIELD led mission he is in a better state than in CAWS, he has friends, he has his dragon(s), and Darcy too.


	14. the semi-lucky dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idris meets a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My router died before Christmas so I've not managed to get much writing done (everything is mostly on gdocs) and what precious time I had for writing was spent elsewhere, mostly on trying to not go more bananas than I already am. This little scene was written for amazonx who prompted Idris meeting a new friend, I hope you enjoy it.

New York was full of laws for pet ownership, especially domestic dragons. Dragons which could, on occasion, cause as much damage as a doombot on a rampage, up to a cyborg space whale. The city happened to be in luck that it wasn’t on the migratory path of anything more than a small species of Canadian Dragons, grey and black in coloring, that took over the parks in autumn. Vicious little dragons that hissed and spat globules of a tar-like substance that burned on contact with bare skin. There were more incident reports of encounters with enraged Canadian Dragons than other dragon related incidents combined. 

All domestic dragons, like furrier four-footed companions, needed to be collared and chipped. However, there was a certain flexibility with the leash laws, that allowed for electronic collars and such for those dragons and dragonets that needed to stretch their wings. Which leads to Darcy standing in a corner of Central Park talking to a tree.

“Idris, come down here. Mama wants coffee,” she says, coiling the empty leash around her hand. A leaf from the tree, painted orange and brown, flutters to the ground in a graceful dance. 

The dragonet thought she was invisible. Her scales were shifted to match the bark of the tree, and it might have worked if the little dragonet hadn't been wearing an amethyst-colored harness. Idris was still but for the movement of her name tag and pendant that hung from her copper alloy collar. 

“We’ll go see Steve after I get coffee. There are cookies and shinies on the line here, Baby,” Darcy wheedles. 

Idris blows a raspberry and busies herself plucking another stubborn leaf from the tree. 

“Ugh,” Darcy stomps her foot. They’d been in the park for what felt like hours while Idris explored every leaf on the ground and practiced gliding down from her present perch in her favorite tree. Idris’s flying wasn't there yet, but she could glide for a fair distance once she launched herself from a branch. 

They’d met a round little pug, a pair of sleek, mossy green dragons wearing orange jackets, and a pink and red dragonet that looked like it had swallowed a beach ball, explored every puddle on the path, and argued the merits of tree ownership with a disgruntled grey squirrel. A squirrel with little fear of furry or scaled invaders. Bossy little dragonets with a flare for dramatically switching colors to appear more menacing to a small fluffy creature were a different story. 

Darcy was just glad Idris didn't want to keep the squirrel, she already had pockets full of stones. Two bottle caps, four pennies, a lime green bobbypin, and blue rhinestone earring, rounded out the day’s collection of treasure. They’d been in the park for forty-seven minutes.

With a sigh Darcy drags her iPhone from her satchel, debating calling Steve. Idris was quite possibly more enamoured of Steve’s voice than she was. It was an excellent excuse to call him. It was also rather flimsy, and quite possibly selfish of her to use Idris as an excuse to call Steve who was busy pouring over maps and files with Sam. 

Her thumb still hovers over Steve’s name in the contacts list long after the screen goes dark. 

“Lucky, no! Look out!” A voice shouts. The phone goes flying before Darcy can look around as a great weight slams her from behind. Darcy pinwheels her arms out, landing on the grass and mud on her knees. A flash of gold catches the corner of her eye and a low trumpet of greeting fills her ears.

“Oh, futz. Sorry,” says a feminine voice.

“Not your fault.”

“He’s usually better behaved than this,” the girl says. She wrinkles her freckled nose and tugs Lucky back before he can pounce on Darcy again. “Lucky, Lucky, no. Lucky, sit. He, uh, likes to make friends,” the girl says. She bends over and plucks Darcy’s iPhone from the ground, wiping the screen off on her purple coat. “Sorry.”

“S’okay,” Darcy says pushing herself up from the ground and dusting her hands off on her jeans. “It happens.” 

The girl in the purple coat is holding back a dusty gold dragon by his purple and black collar. The dragon's paws are dancing on the path, tongue lolling from the side of his mouth. Lucky’s left eye is bisected by an angry scar cutting from the ridge of his brow trailing onto his snout. The eye, itself, was a sightless white orb. His left ear was flopped over and one feathered wing was bandaged tight to the dragon’s side. 

“Oh, what happened to you, handsome boy,” Darcy coos. She offers her hand out to the dragon, letting him catch her scent and slobber over her fingers. 

“It's a long story involving track suits and pizza,” the girl says with a shrug. “I'm walking him for an idiot...er, friend? That can't remember to take care of himself.”

“Such a handsome fella,” Darcy says. She runs her hands over Lucky’s dusky golden hide and silky soft feathers. 

A low whine emits from Idris's throat, and the dragonet shimmers into visibility in the tree. “Cool, is he yours?”

“She, and yup, she’s mine. She’s also a total brat,” Darcy says, a smile lighting up her face. Darcy claps her hands together and holds her palms up as she shouts Idris’s name. 

It only takes a moment for Idris to make up her mind. The little dragon puffs herself up and launches from the tree, small wings snapping out to help her glide down to Darcy’s waiting arms. 

“Be nice, Lucky,” the girl says. She gives the dragon a pat on the side of his neck. “She’s only a baby.”

The dusty gold dragon looks from the girl to Darcy and Idris practically vibrating in Darcy’s hands. He tilts his head to the side and bows down so his front legs are on the ground, the one good wing spread out so the tips of the pin feathers sweep over damp blades of grass. 

Idris wraps her tail tight around Darcy’s left wrist and leans as far forward as she can while being held. The dragonet’s small front paws clasp together, in a clapping motion. Darcy kneels down and places Idris on the path. “Say hello, Idris,” she encourages, rubbing behind the dragonet’s ears. 

Idris’s tail tightens around Darcy’s wrist, and she whistles a single soft note. The golden dragon lowers his head to his paws, a loud purr rumbling from his throat. The sound is enough encouragement for Idris to inch forward, her tail loosening around Darcy’s wrist. The little dragonet shuffles forward another inch and touches Lucky’s head with her front paws. 

Lucky snorts and licks Idris’s face knocking the smaller dragon off her feet. The dragonet looks stunned for all of a second, then pounces on Lucky’s head chittering and whistling excitedly. 

Lucky rolls over onto his back and Idris chases around him in circles jumping up into the air and pouncing back to earth with excited little trumpeting noises. Both girls squee, and whip out their phones to document the meeting. 

“Darcy Lewis.”

“Kate Bishop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had considered keeping Lucky a dog, but then I thought it would be nice for Idris to play with a dragon that is a little closer in size. She still hasn't met Liberty, at least as far as I know. I mean Steve doesn't listen to anyone, let alone a poor fanfic writer, so it is possible he's taken Idris out to meet his dragon).


	15. treat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idris does a trick and earns a treat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of an interlude than a proper chapter, but it was in my head and in my notes so here it is. Today was the sort of day that needed a tiny bit of fluff to end it. 
> 
> I did start writing the next chapter awhile ago and hope to work on it again soon. But first this little bit. Hopefully it causes a smile or two.

"Give this to Jane," Darcy says, holding a hotdog shaped thumbdrive out between her fingertips. Idris cocks her head to the side, stretching out her back legs as she lays across the desk. “Go on give-”

“Darcy, I can get it myself. Or better yet you could actually do-”

“Zip it, Janey.” Darcy holds up her free hand to Jane, and wiggles the thumb drive at the little dragon. “Learning in progress.”

The dragonet bobs her head with a pleased chirp, and rolls up to her feet. She yawns clasping her paws over her jaw, rocking between her back paws. The long tail of the little dragon is held out straight from her small body, and her wings arc out and down to nearly touch the countertop. Cautiously the little dragon takes the thumbdrive, grasping it with her deft little paws, and sniffing at the plastic and metal device. 

 

“Give it to Jane,” Darcy says firmly. She wiggles her fingers in Jane’s direction and Idris clocks the movement of her hand. 

“Doot,” Idris chirps.

 

The little dragon transfers the hotdog drive from her paws to her flexible tail. She scampers across the counter and leaps off the edge with a high pitched squeal. Idris glides down to the floor wings extended landing on all four paw, and only pitching forward slightly. 

Trilling happily Idris scrambles across the tiled floor to Jane's workstation. Once there she tugs on hem of Jane's plaid overshirt where it dangles down to nearly sweep the floor. 

 

Jane ignores the dragonet, furiously   
typing an email and muttering science laden profanities under her breath. 

Idris climbs up Jane’s leg, ducking under the astrophysicist’s arm and leans into Jane’s chest. The dragonet whistles a short song, notes tumbling together to mimic the ringtone Darcy set for Jane. Dragons have a similar vocal range to crows, though the language of dragons is far more complex. The language of dragons, and dragon song uses patterns of notes, sounds, human words (those that bother to mimic humans that is), and sign language.

Smaller domestic dragons weren't as smart as their larger cousins, and lacked the deeper ranges of sounds, but more than made up for it by the sheer amount of singing. Idris was still too young to compose highly complex songs, but she was beginning to memorise jingles, and short melodies. 

"Oh," Jane says, running her hand absently over Idris’s head. The dragonet purrs loudly and drops the drive into Jane’s waiting palm. “Thank you.”

Idris bobs her head, whistles a high long note followed by a shorter one. She nudges her head under Jane's neck, tongue flicking out in a dragon kiss and startling a squeal from Jane. 

The dragonet wiggles free of Jane and dashes back to Darcy on all fours, wings held out and back. "Good job, baby girl," Darcy says stuffing her hand in her pocket and pulling out a slightly lint covered treat. Idris dances from side to side until the little dragon treat is safe in her little grey paws.

“Wait, was that the theme to Flash Gordon?” Jane stabs an accusing finger in the air.

“Maaaaybe.”


	16. a meeting of dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve takes Idris to visit Liberty Belle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can blame or thank Rainne for this chapter. I promised I would write Liberty and Idris meeting for her birthday, which was ages ago as depression and a reluctant muse make for some very slow writing. The chapter takes place two days after Steve's return from DC. 
> 
> Thank you dizzy-redhead for the swift beta job.

He’s tired. Tired of looking at the ceiling, tired of watching movies on the laptop Darcy left, tired of being still and tired of his body aching and itching from the inside out as it heals. Tired of the spiraling course of his thoughts. Bucky was alive, somewhere, and he was stuck in bed while the cuts and bullet holes in his body finished knitting back together. 

Gritting his teeth, Steve throws back the covers and pulls himself up to a sitting position The movement jostles the small dragonet sleeping beside him. Idris peeps sleepily, covering her face with a small paw.

“Sorry,” Steve murmurs, running a hand over Idris’s back and tucking the blankets back around her tightly curled body. The little dragonet had barely left his side since his return to the tower. Sam hasn’t either, for that matter. Darcy, he knows, is busy working with Jane on...something that Steve hadn’t really paid much attention to, all he really knows is that he wishes he’d spent less time asleep while she was visiting him. 

The scent of Darcy’s perfume lingers in the room as Steve manages to dress himself without straining the muscles in his abdomen. He takes take two steps towards the door when the little dragon trills in distress. Steve freezes, turning on his heel to watch the small lump on the bed wiggle around until it reaches the edge of the mattress. Idris falls on the floor in an indignant sprawl, clawed feet scrabbling at the carpeted floor. 

The dragonet whistles three notes, followed by an angry squeal, and hops across the floor to crawl up Steve’s leg. Her claws catch in the cotton of his sweats, and the dragon makes tiny distressed whimpers interspersed with the irate clicking of her tongue as she climbs up onto his shoulder. 

“Hey, now, hush, Idris, wasn’t leaving you, ” Steve sooths. He reaches up to run his fingers over Idris’s smooth scales. Idris bumps her head against Steve’s jaw, a low rumbling purr vibrating through her tiny chest. “I’m just going to go for a little walk is all.”

Idris licks his face, bunches up her body and leaps for the ground, wings snapping out to help her glide down. Steve winces a little as Idris crashes to the ground in a clumsy whirl of scrambling paws and snapping wings. He shakes his head, taking the last few steps across the room. The door is barely open a crack before Idris is squeezing through ahead of him, claws tapping on the hardwood flooring. 

The dragonet makes a beeline for the couch, or rather the half sandwich on the coffee table beside the couch where Sam is softly snoring. Idris eyes Sam and the sandwich warily. Her scales flicker from soft grey with a darker line of purple along her spine to a dark mahogany that matches the dark wood of the coffee table perfectly. 

“Idris,” Steve hisses, and the he little dragon bobs her head down, turning her face away from him. She bunches up her back legs and springs up onto the table. She’s nothing but a blur, paws ripping the sandwich apart, discarding the bread onto the floor and stuffing the meat and cheese into her jaws as fast as she can, a low growl rippling up from her belly. Steve rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, releasing the air in his lungs in a soft sigh. “Idris, come.”

The little dragon swallows a large piece of roast beef, and eyes the now-empty plate before her. Steve steps closer, curling a finger at Idris. The dragon trills, dips her head down to gather a red pen from the cover of Sam’s tablet. Steve reaches down and scoops her up in his hands, and the dragonet becomes sand, wriggling in his grasp and clawing at his sweatshirt to perch on his shoulder. Idris belches into his face, a wisp of smoke drifting up towards the ceiling. “Thanks,” Steve says skirting around the couch. 

Idris coos happily, and licks at Steve’s ear, making him shudder and push her nose away. She bats at his fingers and digs behind his shoulder, tugging at the hood of his sweatshirt. The hood dips down as the little dragon crawls into it, paws kneading the fabric as her long tail curls around Steve’s throat. 

“Shhh,” Steve whispers to the dragonet burrowing into his hood. Idris pauses and a few heartbeats pass before she’s back at it. Happy little squeaking sounds and a handful of soft notes fill his ears as she makes the hood of his sweatshirt into a bed. Or quite possibly somewhere safe to stash the stylus she’d liberated from the coffee table. 

The stylus, held in the tight curl of Idris’s tail is digging into his neck. Steve reaches up to pull the dragonet’s tail away from his throat and earns a startled squeal and a flurry of movement as the little dragon settles herself in his hood. Finally, Steve thinks, reaching for the door and ignoring the twinge of pain from his gut.

“I hope you aren’t trying to sneak out and go chasing after ghosts, Steve,” Sam says. 

Steve sighs, shoulders drooping. “Can’t sleep. Gonna go check on Liberty,” he says. He can feel Idris moving about in his hood, almost feel her listening to the conversation to memorise the words. He turns to face Sam on the couch and Idris stretches up to peer over his shoulder. “You should get some more sleep.” 

“She’s fine, barely a scratch on that tough blue hide of hers,” Sam says rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“I know but she’s mine,” Steve says, reaching up to stroke Idris’s head. Idris purrs softly at the touch. 

“Does she know that?” Sam cocks an eyebrow. 

“I’d, uh, rather not ask.”

“Fair enough, man. Where’s your girl?”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say Darcy’s not his, but Steve’s not a liar. At least not when it came to matters of the heart. “Lab thing, something to do with ‘a back street brawl science style-y’, or so she said,” Steve says. She’d said more, in that nervous way she filled silence with words but he’d lacked the wakefulness to remember anything but the soft feel of her lips brushing against his cheek. 

“Hey, where’d the rest of my sandwich go?” Sam says. He picks up a piece of bread from the floor scowling down at it. 

“I dunno,” Steve shrugs. Idris whistles a few notes of Freebird and dives back down into Steve’s hood out of harm’s way. 

“That’s how it is? You let that little mouse catcher steal my food?”

“That’s how it is,” Steve says, mouth curving up. “Maybe next time you won’t leave food lying around my place.”

Steve ducks out the door before Sam can get a last word in. The quick twist of his waist pulls at the abused muscles of his belly and steals the air from his lungs. Steve grits his teeth and makes his way to the elevator. 

“Come on, Idris, I have someone for you to meet.”  
…

The hangar for the quinjet also housed Liberty’s nest and a roost at the opposite end for Lucille, Sam’s avian companion. The dragon and the bird got along well enough, but Liberty was incredibly fussy about who was allowed into the room that she had made into her nest. 

When Liberty first showed up at the tower with him, Tony had a nest built for the blue dragon. She’d set fire to the supposedly indestructible and incredibly high quality bed and destroyed a wall before settling into a large storage room and meticulously stripping everything out into a heap of weapons cases, boxes of medical supplies, and computer equipment Steve pretended he didn’t understand whenever he was questioned. 

The floor of the nest is covered in coarse white sand strewn with Liberty’s discarded feathers and tumbled semi-precious gemstones. Liberty is stretched out along the back wall of the room, one wing tucked up and the other stretched out wide. The long blue feathers of her wing catch the light, and Steve winces at the spot where feathers have gone missing. 

Liberty greets him with a rumble of pleasure. She stretches out her long neck, looking him over just as critically as Steve checks her over. The large dragon is less than happy with him, by the lowering of her brow ridges and narrowing of her bright eyes. 

“I’m fine,” Steve says. 

Liberty makes a chuffing sound in her throat, and breathes in deeply, the tip of her snout unerringly finding the spot on his abdomen that the bullets had so recently been removed from. The dragon nudges him. Hard. Knocking him off his feet and onto his ass. 

“We talked about this,” he grumbles pushing the concerned dragon away. A small but clearly audible cry registers a moment before Idris crawls out of his hood and loops her small body around Steve’s neck. Tiny claws dig into his throat and Idris’s entire body trembles. “Hey, hey,” Steve coos, fighting to untangle the dragonet from his throat and earning a bite to his earlobe for the trouble. “It’s okay, Idris.”

Liberty clucks her tongue, and flicks her wings back and forth, watching Steve with curious eyes as he wrestles with the tiny dragon now wrapped around his hand and forearm. Idris’s scales shift back and forth between the color of Steve’s skin to the soft grey of his sweatshirt before settling on the blue of the uniform he’s not wearing. It’s not the glossy shade of blue that Liberty is with her darker, iridescent wings but it's enough to get the larger dragon to huff out a dragonic laugh.

“Idris meet Liberty,” Steve says as the little dragonet puffs up with indignation in his hand. “Libby, behave. She’s only a hatchling.”

Liberty huffs and rolls her eyes up towards the ceiling before she flattens the crest of feathers down her spine and lowers her sleek shape to the sand with a soft song. The song isn’t one Steve knows, short notes that even his enhanced ears can’t hear all of. Whatever the song is, it puts the little dragon somewhat at ease. Idris deflates, and her shining scales revert to a darker grey with hints of dark amethyst along her spine that match the gem dangling from the dragonet’s collar. The little dragonet whistles three notes ending in a soft warbling. 

It takes a little bit of coaxing and Steve leaning against Liberty’s side to get Idris to let him go. Or nearly let him go, as her tail was firmly hooked around his foot while she made friends with one of Steve’s oldest friends. The thought sends his stomach into knots that have nothing to do with the stirring of dragonflies whenever he thinks of Darcy or the lingering pain of deep tissues knitting them back together. 

_Bucky’s alive._

Steve closes his eyes, leaning his head back on Liberty’s warm hide. His hands curl into fists in the dry sand of the nest. Tears prick the corners of his eyes and the world narrows down to Liberty’s hatchling song, and Idris chirruping at his feet. Tears fall freely down Steve’s face. He doesn't try to stop them as he wallows in the company of dragons. Sorrow and hope dance in his chest, as Liberty curls her long body around Steve and Idris pushes a loose feather into his hand. He falls asleep listening to Idris’s chatter the steady beat of Liberty Belle’s heart.


	17. tires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idris meets a new... _friend._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had a bit of a rough few days and was in need of a distraction. The distraction arrived this morning via hxans tagging me on a tumblr post about tire dragons and the tiny scene below popped into my head. The post is here If you need to see the magesty that is a tire dragon in all it’s glory.
> 
> I missed writing Idris so very much. I hope you enjoy this little bit of fluff and that it brightens your day or evening wherever you are. 
> 
> Thank you, hxans, for inspiring my muse enough to scribble a few words down.

“Oh my gods,” Darcy huffs out a laugh. The end of Idris’s tail whips out catching Darcy’s glasses and knocking them askew. “It’s not real, you weenie.”  
Idris peeps once in distress burrowing deeper beneath the layers of Darcy’s clothes. The dragonet’s small claws catch in the lace of Darcy’s bra. 

The slender chain attached to Idris’s harness is freezing on Darcy’s warm skin. A meeping noise falls from Darcy’s lips and she nearly drops the paper coffee cup in her hand.

“Idris, come out. It’s just a bunch of old tires,” Darcy says in the most soothing voice she can manage. The tire dragons are on display in the vacant lot next to Bob’s Tire & Break. Bob’s was two streets over from the house Darcy grew up in, and four blocks down from the best coffee in town. Coffee which was surprisingly still good after all the time Darcy spent away from home. College, internship, and an actual paid job as Jane’s assistant in Stark’s peen tower. 

Steve fit in there somewhere, though where Darcy wasn’t entirely sure. One kiss did not a relationship make. But still there was something there, something that made warmth creep up into her cheeks and her heart beat faster. Steve was…well, she didn’t even know where he was other than playing some epic game of Where’s Waldo? with his not dead childhood BFF. 

She shrugs her shoulders and sips the sweet nectar that is her pecan pie spiced latte.

Idris whistles softly, contorting her small body into a twisted sort of donut shape. The dragonet pops her head up above the neck of Darcy’s leaf colored sweater, eyes wide and scales matching the russet sweater exactly. 

The little dragon bumps her head under Darcy’s chin. 

“Hey,” Darcy says wiping dribbled coffee from her chin. Idris chirrups, then hisses, tiny body vibrating. 

Biting her lip, Darcy slips her phone out and snaps a handful of selfies of a very indignant looking dragonet glaring out at the tire dragons from beneath her chin. Idris’s paws clinging to the neck of Darcy’s sweater. The photos aren’t flattering no matter how much Darcy stretches her neck up, but Idris is adorably indignant and it’s totally worth it.

It takes ten minutes of coaxing to get Idris down on the ground anywhere near the green painted tire dragon. Idris crawls over the ground, alternating between puffing herself up like a disgruntled cat with scales flickering a vibrant orange and slinking about close to Darcy’s boots with her scales the color of the white gravel path. 

The tire dragon’s fire hose tongue is lolling out, unravelled across the ground. It’s the first thing Idris touches with a single claw. The dragonet’s tail snakes around Darcy’s boot holding on tight as Idris examines the tire dragon’s tongue with her sensitive little paws and the tip of her tiny pink tongue. 

Another minute or two passes by slowly as the dragonet decides she is in no immediate danger and her scales revert to their normal heather grey with shades of amethyst. Idris whistles a few notes, tilting her head from side to side.

“Friends now?” Darcy asks, turning over a pebble with the tip of her boot.

Idris chirrups once. She pats the tire dragon with a paw and eyes it warily as she picks her way across the ground to tug at a red bottle cap half buried in the ground beside the path. Idris holds the bottle cap to her chest unfurling her wings to arch over shoulders hiding her new treasure from the tire dragon’s sightless eyes.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Carnival Prize](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3946789) by [Rainne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainne/pseuds/Rainne)
  * [The Internet is for Dragons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4424180) by [Aenaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aenaria/pseuds/Aenaria)




End file.
